Denial
by toadstoolcouch
Summary: Curse of Darkness. Hector loses the first battle in the game to Isaac. Now he's his prisoner. But Isaac does not expect Dracula to return. WARNINGS: BDSM, graphic gore, sex, violence, non con. Isaac/Hector, Dracula/Isaac, Dracula/Hector
1. Chapter 1

Heavy metal cuffs ground into his wrists, the sweat weakening the skin even more. Hector would have huge, bright red gashes around his wrists and neck. Isaac would command his fairy type Innocent Devil, a creature he forged only for this purpose, to heal Hector of most, but not all injuries by the end of the day. He liked to see his prisoner's body permanently marked, decorated with the signs of ownership.

Having been bound like this, attached to the wall and on his feet for many hours, Hector was in a weary, simple minded state. He'd long ago abandoned any hopes of being fed, and the hunger pangs become no more than an occasional reminder that he did still have a stomach. Every physical injury ached until a new one was given. In time he lost track of everything that had been done to him, and only felt the pain of the very freshest wound.

Over the hours, he kept thinking back to the battle that lead him here. It couldn't have been that long ago, Hector knew, but as time passed so slowly in the dungeon, Hector thought of every second before being captured as an entirely separate life.

He'd started with the lust for revenge. He already had nothing to live for; his wife was dead, at his current captor's hands, no less. Even when his quest lead to many other consequences and discoveries, still he could not shake off that very simple, very basic need to find and mutilate the one that had caused him such pain. His hatred was tangible, but like a fire that gives off no comforting heat, it was an agony, no matter how constant.

Even the vicious wounds sustained from Isaac's spear during the fight meant nothing to him. Just a few seconds into the confrontation and Hector realized, at the back of his mind, that he was no match for Isaac. He was completely unprepared, slow and clumsy as a ghoul to Isaac's confident and well rehearsed attacks.

But Hector didn't care; he thought that perhaps luck would be on his side. Maybe the sheer force of his hatred would be enough to give him an edge. It was this hatred that kept him from giving in to the sweet temptation of suicide, after all.

Or, even better, he would be killed. Simple as that, everything over with one final stab of the spear. It could have been so easy to let it happen. If not Isaac, than his demonic familiar would have granted him release with just one well aimed blast. How many times had he thrown himself to the ground to escape the creature's deadly attacks?

He had not counted on Isaac sparing his life, but he realized later, hanging limply from shackles, that he should have expected it. Has Isaac ever shown such mercy to anyone, or anything, else? After forsaking Dracula, Hector should have known that he was no longer considered anything of any importance to Isaac. The only thing sacred, if such a word could be used, to Isaac was his loyalty to Dracula.

"Perhaps you should have trained some more," Isaac had sneered, after a railing, inhuman laugh. Hector was face down in a pile of whipped up dirt and dust, and a puddle of his own blood. The tip of Isaac's blade had gouged out one of his eyes, torn his clothes, sliced through skin and arteries, and yet Hector had keep coming, propelled only by the blackest hatred. He could not ignore the pain, but used it to help push him forward, telling himself over and over that this nightmare would be over very soon. Whether or not he took Isaac's life, he would soon be reunited with Rosalee, for even if he survived, he fully intended on killing himself right afterwards. Someone else could deal with Dracula's curse.

It was a swipe at one of the tendons in Hector's leg that finally fell him. Finally the pain was just too much, and he was no longer able to even stand. His remaining eye had strained upwards to see the vague, fuzzy shapes of Isaac's legs before him, but that chilling laugh was perfectly clear.

It was a high pitched, exuberant burst of noise that always seemed just about to go out of control. During his time as one of Dracula's generals, it was a constant companion. Right next to his ear, or perhaps as a faint echo in the middle of the night, but it was always there. It was there when Hector watched Rosalee consumed by flames, and it was there at his moment of defeat.

***

A sharp slap brought Hector back to consciousness, and he was woefully confused. He didn't remember falling asleep, or much of anything from the past few minutes.

"Well, I'm terribly sorry!" Isaac jeered, irritation in his lilac eyes. "Am I boring you?" He drove a hearty scream from Hector, driving a dagger deep into the other's gut.

Isaac had only been there a short while; most of the day Hector had spent waiting, chained up. A lowly and silent Innocent Devil would come in now and then to clean Hector, but it allowed the blood and sweat to glisten and curdle upon the man's pale skin, just as it would allow Hector a taste of just enough food and water to keep him alive, but no more.

When Isaac had returned, Hector had felt his heart race with dread, but he was also relieved. A break in the monotony, or something more? Hector liked to fantasize about Isaac letting his guard down, maybe by turning his back after untying Hector. But his fantasies never went too far before his mind would go back to torturous memories.

By now he was used to it, but Hector still shuddered with revulsion when Isaac brought the blade to his lips and licked it clean, his eyes fixed to the prisoner. Blood stained Isaac's lips in patches, and some of the color sat in specks on his teeth. With only a few torches to illuminate the dungeon, all that blood looked black, except when an occasional drop caught a ray of light. Then it shone with a magnificent, bright red, matching Isaac's hair.

One more lingering smirk and Isaac bent to drag his tongue over the fresh wound, resting his fingers on Hector's chest. The leather of his glove felt cold on his moist, hot skin. Hector gasped, then moaned as Isaac's tongue at first stroked, then penetrated the wound. Imagining that Isaac could possibly touch an organ, or at the very least, bits of torn muscles, Hector fought the urge to vomit. He had thrown up on Isaac's boots, his hands, even on his belly, but never had he defiled his tormentor's hair.

But Isaac didn't stop, and Hector had to turn his head and try to breathe in deeply to chase away the nausea. When he sucked in a breath, he gently pushed against Isaac's face, driving that tongue in even deeper. His rival's teeth scraped along the frayed edges of the wound at first, but now they clamped on loose skin, pulling and grinding. The idea of Isaac eating him, or even just pretending to, was too much for Hector. That ghastly image, the pain, and the fetid air of the dungeon all conspired to make him vomit over Isaac's head.

Since his last meal was nothing more than a mouthful of dry, stale bread, Hector mostly dry heaved, and what little he brought up was oily yellow bile. It was still enough to interrupt Isaac, who stood and glared at Hector, eyes narrowing. Hector's chest quivered, his breath coming out in small whines. He was far too exhausted to waste a thought on dignity; only the most basic of emotions were left. Fear, pain, and something else he wasn't sure of.

Isaac then split his lips into a ghoulish, blood soaked smile. It wasn't the blood, but some other detail that instantly reminded Hector of Dracula. Not for the first time Hector wished he'd been captured by Dracula instead. Not that he expected any mercy, but at least he didn't hate him quite so fiercely.

Isaac made a slight motion with one hand and Hector flinched. He trembled slightly as Isaac laughed at his cowardice. But it took too much energy to feel shame. With a low, throaty moan of a laugh in his lips, Isaac leaned closer, so Hector could smell the blood in his breath and the bile in his hair. Isaac's knee ground between Hector's bound legs, forcing a whimper from him. Torchlight glinted off Isaac's dagger as he waved it back and forth in front of Hector's face. He chuckled and showed his blood stained teeth at Hector's fearful reactions; with an obedient fairy at Isaac's beck and call, he really could do anything he wanted to Hector. Hector whined from the stress alone of expecting his face to be maimed at any second.

But Isaac flung the knife over his shoulder and smirked with a slight wag of the head. Isaac had a whole language of facial expressions and subtle body movements, and yet Hector had never learned them all. He could appear to be in a jovial mood and yet think nothing of burying the head of his spear deep into a villager's body. Even Hector was not free from his violent tendencies while they had served under the same lord. Of course, since Hector was under Dracula's protection at that time, Isaac never did anything too serious to him.

But Hector had no such protection anymore. He had no allies, no friends, no one to even know where he was.

Isaac shoved his fingers around the back of Hector's head and pulled him closer to his face. His bloodied tongue snaked in even before their lips met, and his free hand traveled up and down Hector's bare torso. Hector's skin crawled, and he shook as Isaac's hand slid lower. Even though this kiss was less of a kiss and more Isaac trying to rip Hector's lips from his face, it was the first time their mouths had ever met since he was brought here.

Even when they had served Dracula together, they had been sexual. It was an unsatisfying joke of a relationship, about as personal and loving as a condescending to nod to someone in passing. But they were both men who found what little physical comfort they could in each other.

Hector knew to expect more of the same as Isaac's prisoner, only far worse, of course. He was not shocked when he was taken by force that first night, not even repulsed to orally service his captor. He was so used to such acts with Isaac he'd grown weary of them.

And yet Hector was now panting and trembling with a desperate need as Isaac's breath washed down his neck. He greedily licked up his own blood from Isaac's tongue and lips when he had the chance. He didn't cringe when Isaac stroked his neck, but whined for more. His fear of Isaac did not diminish; he fully expected Isaac to do something evil to him very soon. But he had not felt a lust so strong before, and wondered briefly is his exhaustion what was the cause.

Teeth scraped across his lips and clacked against his own. They bit down on Hector's lips and crunched and pulled, but a tongue would drive inside before too much damage was done. Hector felt more overtaken, more subjugated by this savage kiss than by anything else Isaac had done to him.

When Isaac pulled his lips away, Hector gaped, longing for more. He told himself that as long as Isaac kissed him, the more time he had to plan his escape. He even allowed himself to admit that he was desperate for even the slightest bit of tenderness from another person, but he would not even think that he could possibly want such tenderness from Isaac.

Isaac had snapped his fingers for his fairy to close up the wound on Hector's belly. Hector didn't even realize how close to death he had been in those few frantic seconds, bleeding his life away all over Isaac's hips. He kept his eyes fixed on Isaac the entire time, but not to catch him letting his guard down.

Isaac slapped the fairy away and pressed himself back onto his prisoner's body. The leather of his pants chafed painfully against Hector's cock, but he pushed himself back anyway. Grunting, Isaac rubbed his own erection against Hector's, with only the tight material in the way. Grasping Hector by the neck, Isaac rubbed himself harder against Hector, biting his lip and snarling with pleasure. Hector had never been able to insult Isaac by remaining soft during such molestation, but he had managed to at least appear disinterested. When they had been fellow generals, their idea of sex was one taking what he warted from the other, with no regard to the other's needs. Even Hector was guilty of it. This time it was one sided just because Isaac had certain advantages over Hector. It wouldn't have made much difference if Hector were dead.

But ever since that kiss, Hector's lust was growing, drowning out any other feeling or thought. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed, already despising himself, "Isaac...please....please..."

Isaac didn't slow, but he did make a curious sound in answer. The two had barely exchanged a handful of words to each other since the capture.

"Let me..." Hector gnashed his teeth, trying to will himself to give this up. He tried to focus on the ache of his body, or even torment himself with his grief for Rosalee, but nothing worked. He opened his eyes and breathed, "Let me come. Please!"

Isaac stopped and stared at Hector for a moment, a blank look on his face. Hector's ragged breathing paused, waiting. Half expecting a cruel punishment for saying that. He could not decipher the smug look he got in response. But that was no reason for Hector to relax; Isaac's sadism did not always depend on his mood.

"Do you know why you haven't yet?" he asked sweetly, cocking his head. Hector knew it was because he simply was never given the opportunity. The rare times his hands weren't bound, he was wearing an iron belt that prevented him to even touch himself. But of course that wasn't the kind of answer Isaac was looking for, so Hector remained quiet, his hips writhing.

Isaac slapped his hand between his captive's legs and squeezed. Isaac's touch was never what one would call gentle, but the sudden pain shocked Hector into a loud gasp. Isaac pulled on Hector's cock and squeezed so hard Hector writhed against the wall, as if to crawl away. But as terrible as the pain was, the arousal was worse. Hector could no longer differentiate between pleasure and pain; he both wanted this to stop and wanted more.

"I haven't told you to," Isaac said, then finally relaxed his grip. Hector shuddered and felt his body melt into Isaac's grip. The muscles at the base of his thighs tightened as he tried to spread his bound legs. He let out a loud moan as Isaac's gloved hand slid up to the head. Tears burned in his eyes.

"And I take obedience very, very seriously," he whispered, pulling ever harder, leaning his face closer. Hector kept his face turned away as it contorted into a desperate grimace. "And you wouldn't dare disobey me, now would you?"

"No," Hector hissed. He'd by now gotten over having to say shameful things to appease Isaac. His past with this servant of Dracula had taught him that while Isaac was dangerous and unstable, he was still vain, and that can always be manipulated. If Isaac wanted to hear pretty words, Hector would tell them; he didn't have to mean them.

Isaac stroked him, running his fingers up and down in a tight, firm grip, and cackled in Hector's ear. "And I don't see how you reaching your climax benefits me in any way."

"I don't...I..." Hector attempted speech, if only to try to control himself. He felt dizzy and his muscles started to convulse. His breath shortened, and it took every ounce of will to prevent himself.

Isaac only stroked him harder, and snarled, "In fact I see no benefit in you having this at all." He stopped stroking to squeeze at the base. Hector's head drooped as far as the neck shackle would allow, the sweaty top of his head brushing across the heavy iron collar at Isaac's neck. The tiny chains tinkled musically.

"Please..." He chomped down on his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Anything to distract his body from what it desperately needed. He frowned and whispered, "Master."

Isaac chuckled and let go to lift Hector's chin. "Now that is nice," he cooed. "Even if it is just a pathetic trick."

Hector bit his lip, but could only hold back the sobs for a second more. No matter what he'd say or do, Isaac would find some way to throw it back in his face, he knew. Now the faint hope for some kind of pleasure would be for nothing.

"You want it so bad you're weeping?" Isaac licked his lips and watched Hector a moment, while Hector battled with the surge of emotions brewing inside him. He was still painfully aroused, suffering a need far more immediate and painful than any hunger or injury pain. He would not know release on his own, but even just one more touch from Isaac, just one more faint touch...

Hector sobbed not only from that, but at his hatred at himself for showing Isaac yet another vulnerability. Now there really wasn't anything left safe from him.

But even as he berated himself, Isaac was unlocking the shackles. No matter what Isaac had in store, Hector only cared that he could at least get the chance to move his aching limbs. He fell into Isaac's arms and had to be dragged away from the wall. Isaac tossed him like a pile of rags and ordered him to his knees. With great effort, Hector obeyed.

But he did not expect Isaac to summon Abel, his human-like Innocent Devil. It seemed to Hector a mindless creature, nothing like a man except in its freakishly familiar appearance. Its eyes were blank and cold, but its claws were like razors.

The thing floated to Isaac's side and glowered menacingly at Hector. He then gave orders to Abel in a low voice. Hector watched in weary confusion until the demon came for him and easily wrestled him to the ground. Within seconds Abel was sitting on the ground with Hector pressed against it, back to it. Abel pressed its claws to Hector's throat and pulled up and back, forcing Hector to look up at a grinning Isaac. The devil lifted its feet over Hector's stretched out legs, slammed them on the ground between them, and then pushed outward, spreading Hector's legs even farther. The claws at Hector's throat slithered upwards to force into his mouth. They had a disturbingly strange taste amongst the fresh blood.

Hector was about to speak when Abel slid Hector's body on top of its own. With surprising strength, Abel lifted Hector just enough to force him back down on the devil's cock. Hector burst out with a gargling scream, just as surprised as hurt; Hector had many of his own Devils, but he'd never seen anything like that on any of them. Leave it to Isaac to be the one to find it first.

Strange as it was, Hector was still unable to escape it. The devil pounded up into him as if he were a rag doll. Abel was no bigger than Isaac, but it seemed to have ridges or some kind of growths on its appendage that ripped Hector apart from the inside.

"Stop!" Isaac barked, and Abel obeyed immediately. It held Hector upright, slipping its hand from Hector's mouth to grip his hair tight. Hector quivered and moaned as Isaac approached him, agonizing from the damaging object inside him and the fact that his erection was no less desperate.

"It's far more fun to watch you scream in pain, Hector," he sneered, and lifted his foot over Hector's groin, lowering it slowly. When Hector writhed against it, Isaac pressed down harder for a second then released. "Give him what he wants, Abel," he said.

"No!" Hector yelled as Abel took hold of his cock. He winced and fought to get the words out. "No! Isaac, please...from you...please!"

Isaac crossed his arms and smirked. "Is my Abel no good enough for you?" He crouched to meet Hector eye to weeping eye. "Why do you want it from me?"

Hector groaned and struggled against Abel, who continued roughly squeezing the human, since it had not been told to do otherwise by its master yet. "I-I don't...just...please, please!" Even if Hector could speak clearly, he wouldn't have a coherent answer. He wasn't sure himself why he needed Isaac's hand, and no other, on his cock.

"Enough," he snapped to Abel, who withdrew its claw. Isaac crept closer and flashed his teeth, now licked clean of blood. "Begging me to touch you," he whispered. "Just like old times."

As desperate as he was, Hector could not resist arguing. "I never--"

"No, you didn't beg me back then. You didn't have to." Isaac laughed a low, slow noise and traced a finger up Hector's cheek. "But you do know, don't you? You're not my Lord's favorite anymore. You have to earn what you want."

"That's not my fault," Hector hissed. Even breathing was agony, as every movement caused his flesh to scrape against the jagged cock inside him. "I never wanted--"

"O please, you're killing the mood," Isaac sneered, waving a hand dismissively. "You're dead to him now anyway. Well, worse than dead actually, but none of that interests me in the slightest." Hector saw the briefest glimmer of some other emotion flash over Isaac's face, but then it passed, replaced by a cold, toothy grin. Isaac crawled closer to Hector, and as Abel lay back, so did Hector. But for the pain of Abel inside him, Hector could easily forget the devil was even there.

"What will you do for me if I allow you to come?" he said.

Hector stammered, fighting the incredibly awkward position his body was in. It was too painful to lean back any farther, but he felt repelled by Isaac's menacing, challenging look. He did still open his legs further, however. "A-anything," he whispered. "What more can you take?"

Isaac chuckled with a self-assure smugness. "Then tell me you forgive me," he said in a mocking tone. One hand floated to Hector's cock, but the fingers just barely danced on the skin.

"For-forgive you?"

"For that ugly incident with that witch."

Hector grunted and felt his face burn up with a sudden surge of hatred. The light, teasing touches were torture; his body spasmed with violent pleasure at Isaac's touch, no matter what he had said. He kept his mouth shut, not even knowing what he could possibly say that wouldn't get him in trouble.

Isaac withdrew his hand and pouted his lips, making a fakely sorrowful face. "I don't want you to hate me for it," he whined, and then laughed sharply. He took hold of Hector's neck, pushing him ever so slightly, but enough to force Hector harder down against Abel. "Go on. Tell me."

Hector winced, teeth gnashing. Isaac listened to him grunt for a moment then let go, prompting Hector to yelp, "I forgive you!" The black hatred could wait; the throbbing in his cock could not. Far too many nights he had been forced to spend chained up in that dungeon, waiting for the painful arousal to subside by itself.

"For what?" Isaac asked with a dart of the tongue over his lip.

Hector met his eyes and didn't bother to hide his loathing. That only made Isaac laugh as he dragged his fingertips along the inside of Hector's thigh. Some heat radiated from Isaac's gloved hand, and was like a caress. Even Abel seemed to be conspiring against him as well; the creature sat up, forcing Hector to lean his back against the monster's torso, closing him in.

Brave hatred and defiance were playthings for Isaac. Just one more soft stroke of the finger and Hector was in tears again, ready to say anything. "For—for what you did t-to...Rosalee..." he whispered through gritted teeth, tears rolling down both cheeks. He sickened himself, but at that moment all that mattered was Isaac's hand around his cock.

"Tell me again," Isaac lilted.

Hector forced it out quick and clear, "I forgive you for-for what you did to Rosalee." Hector sagged against Abel, desperately wishing for release and death in the same breath.

"Pathetic," Isaac sneered, leaning close enough to brush his forehead against the other's. "You disgust me, Hector. I never though you could go any lower, but you just did." Isaac slowly licked a runaway tear from Hector's face. "I have heard the most pitiful and disgusting pleas for mercy from other men, but those cries were for their lives. You, however..." He shook his head and took off one glove. Hector knew that Isaac was in no position to judge him for this. But that didn't make him hate himself any less, especially since he knew he would do it again, and again. As often as Isaac wanted.

Isaac took hold of Hector's cock with his bare hand. The naked flesh was warm, soft, moist. Hector squirmed and writhed under Isaac's hold, oblivious of the pain from Abel. He even lay back on Abel, as if the demon were nothing more than furniture, spreading his legs, throwing his head back.

He had been achingly close before, but he was able to hold off for a moment. He leaned closer to Isaac, inviting him to a kiss that would send him over the edge for sure. Isaac smiled a tiny, cheeky smile and leaned closer as well. But his lips went past Hector's and to his ear instead, where he snarled, "I killed your whore and I'll kill you, Hector. You never should have betrayed your master. No one crosses Lord Dracula."

He gripped Hector by the hair with his free hand, and stroked harder with the other. Hector was disturbed by his words, but was getting closer and closer. Perhaps the exhilarating pleasure emboldened him, but he dared to whisper back, "You have him to yourself now."

Isaac let out a vicious, hateful laugh and snapped Hector's head to the side. "You have no idea the Hell I went through when you abandoned us! He blamed me for it, he thought I'd killed you!" Hector stole a glance at Isaac when he paused to see violent emotion in his eyes. "I was getting closer to him, Hector, but you ruined that when you left. You caused more grief than you'll ever know! You have no idea what pain is, what loss is!" He shook Hector's head by the hair and hissed so hard through gritted teeth that he was foaming at the mouth. "I only wish I had more to take away from you. If I could bring that filthy witch back just to kill her again, I would!"

Every cruel word was only bringing Hector closer. Every powerful emotion that raced through his head worked together to amplify the intense sensation from Isaac's fingers. Hector grabbed Isaac by the shoulders, and his captor didn't make any move to correct him.

"But death is too good for you," Isaac continued. "No, you will beg me for death, and you'll want it far, far more than you want something as stupid as this."

He snarled more to Hector, but he stopped listening. Every other sensation was drowned out as he felt himself get closer. He pressed his face against Isaac's and felt the brush of the other's lips on his ear rather than hear the vicious curses. His moan was loud enough to interrupt Isaac's tirade when he finally came. He shook against Isaac for a few seconds, drooling over his shoulder, gyrating against the other's hand to make it last.

For a moment Hector was in blissful oblivion. He surrendered himself to the perfectly empty feeling that followed, unable to hear or see or feel anything else. Very slowly he woke back up, and felt his stomach sink at the grim look on Isaac's face. Isaac was holding his hand at chest level, as if he could not stand to have it near him. It was covered with Hector's ejaculate.

"I did not tell you to come," he said at last.

Hector could only stare stupidly back. He had thought...it didn't matter, he was wrong. And if what Isaac had said earlier was no empty threat...

"What are you just sitting there for?" Isaac snapped. "Clean this off me!"

Hector went to take Isaac's hand on his own, but the redhead slapped him hard across the face. "Do not touch me, whore," he snarled, passionate disgust in his voice.

Ears ringing from the slap, Hector shakily went back to Isaac's hand and started licking. He half expected to have accidentally done something wrong again, but Isaac did nothing until Hector was finished.

"Disgusting creature," Isaac hissed, standing up. He wiped his hand on his hip and made small nod, which signaled Abel to pull Hector off him. Hector groaned with pain as that sharp object slid and ripped its way out of him. He could not see whatever it was when he turned back to look at Abel, however. The only evidence he had that such an appendage existed was the pool of blood on the floor beneath him.

He started to stand when Isaac gestured him to, but Isaac pulled him up by the hair anyway and held him close. "You dare disobey me--"

"I thought it--"

Isaac slammed Hector back first into the wall. "And now you dare interrupt me," he raged. "I will teach you to fear me, Hector--"

Isaac's fairy was at his ear then, and though Hector strained to hear, it seemed to him that she was making no sound at all. Whatever she said, it caused the color to drain from Isaac's face. It took him a second to regain his composure, but he still shook slightly even as he tried to appear menacing to Hector. "I have business to attend to," he barked, shoving Hector into Abel's arms. The Innocent Devil dragged Hector back to the shackles on the wall and locked him in.

Isaac hurried over to Hector, jabbed a finger in his face and snarled, "Don't make a sound, slave! I will be back shortly to deal with you." He then rushed up the slimy stone stairs of the dungeon as Abel extinguished the torches. With the slam of the heavy iron door, Hector was plunged back into silence and darkness.

He spent the next hour crying softly until he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

After a long pause, I'm finally working on this fic again, and hopefully I will finish it this time. I have plenty ofnew ideas this time around.

Pairings for this chapter: implied Dracula/Isaac, Dracula/Hector, Isaac/Hector

Isaac crept up the stairwell once his body slipped safely into darkness. Shielded from Hector's eyes, he could afford to quiver with deep seated dread, the apprehension of discovering what waited for him just upstairs. Fear was not a stranger, though. A deep, painful longing gnawed from within in anticipation as well. If his little faerie were correct, then he would be minutes from reunion with his master. Under any other circumstances, Isaac would be eager. But now…

"Lord Dracula," Isaac said in a small, light voice. Although the man was facing away, and looked a good deal smaller, more hollow, there was no doubt who it was. Isaac had assumed his master was dead, or at least forced into hiding. He had not seen Dracula defeated with his own eyes, but between the rumors and the distinct change in atmosphere, Isaac was able to guess.

He hoped Dracula would explain how he could have returned, because Isaac was too afraid to ask. Even stepping closer to him was nerve-wracking; just how much would Dracula blame on him?

Dracula's movements as he turned around were that of a tired man, a mere mortal. But his eyes shone with an inhuman light that betrayed a hidden untouchable reserve of strength. His expression was hard and cold. Confused and wary, Isaac knelt on one knee and bowed his head in reverence, hoping that if his master were angry at him, this gesture would placate him. It also saved him from having to look at those intense eyes.

"How long have you been here?" Dracula snapped. His voice was a paler, bristlier version of what Isaac was used to, but it held the same power.

Isaac paused to think, but couldn't even begin to guess. His nervousness made his brain refuse to cooperate. He hadn't kept time since taking Hector here. In fat, he was wiling away the time with ruthless disregard, waiting to finally kill himself or find something else to live for. It could have been days, or even months. And Dracula was still waiting for an answer, his eyes even darker than before.

"I…I don't know, Master," he stammered. "I came here to…rest." He flicked his eyes up; Dracula was staring down at him hard, as if probing his mind. Then he chastised himself. If he hadn't spent so much time with Hector, he would have known about Dracula's return. What a fool, what a worthless waste it made him, that he was so unprepared. Already he failed the first chance to prove his worth to his lord.

If Dracula believed him, he made no sign either way, but merely changed the subject. With a subtle flick of the hand he ordered Isaac to his feet and pulled him close by the arm. Isaac felt his heart pound and his muscles stiffen, but he welcomed this as much as he feared it. Just to feel Dracula's fingers on his skin, after so long, and after believing he'd be denied it forever, thrilled him to breathlessness. Dracula's eyes did not soften in any way, but gazed in an entrancing, seductive way. Isaac knew that he was being drawn in by the vampire's hypnotic stare like he were nothing more than prey, but he wouldn't stopped it if he could. Isaac firmly believed there was more to this than just feeding; it was intimate, it was a gift.

In any case, this time it was definitely out of need. Dracula's skin was a ghostly white, the hunger of his body evident in his desperate eyes and tightly gripping fingers. He was staring, and yet he still took the time to gently stroke the hair from Isaac's neck and remove the cast iron collar with deliberate calm. Isaac melded his body against Dracula's and stretched his neck to further expose it. His fingers curled around his master's robes in anticipation

The sudden, fiercely sharp pain made him gasp and tense up, but in a few seconds an endorphin rush relaxed and soothed him. As he always did, Isaac moaned and slid his hands across Dracula's back, writhing his hips against him. He had the beginnings of an erection, but the draining of blood soon killed it, and he became as soft and limp as it was.

Isaac was near to passing out by the time Dracula wrenched himself away. He held Isaac upright with one arm tight around his back, and used his free hand to wipe the excess blood from his mouth. Isaac watched his master's tongue clean all traces of red from his hand, then flick across his predatory teeth.

Just from that quick consumption, Dracula's vitality enjoyed a boost. His skin darkened slightly, and overall he looked stronger. Isaac realized, as Dracula gazed at him, that he was still quite hungry, but he had forced himself to stop before killing his servant. Isaac half considered offering his master his life; surely if Dracula discovered what was in the cellar, he would be better off dead.

Dracula lowered Isaac to the floor and bent his knees to help him recover, but didn't wait long before asking, "What of Hector?"

Isaac grit his teeth, debating with himself. He could tell the truth and possibly be rewarded for reuniting his master with Hector, or he could take the risk of keeping it a secret and thus have Dracula all to himself. Eventually it was fear that won out. Dracula was bound to find out anyway.

With heavy reluctance, Isaac groaned, "He's in the cellar."

Dracula turned with a savage look. "As your prisoner? For how long?"

Isaac felt his stomach sink, and would have regretted bringing Hector here if he hated him any less. "Master, you told me to kill him."

Dracula knelt over Isaac. "And you disobeyed me."

"I was planning to do it," Isaac whimpered, struggling to find the right words, the right explanation. Anything to take the furious gleam from Dracula's eyes.

But it faded on its own, as Dracula waved a hand in disgusted dismissal. "It's just as well. Perhaps there is still hope for him."

Isaac could have cried out, but feared Dracula's wrath at showing any displeasure for his intentions. Now he mentally flogged himself for not killing Hector when he had the chance. The torture was sweet, but he'd erred by letting it go on for so long.

"Come," Dracula ordered, waiting by the stairwell. Isaac struggled to get up quickly and not collapse from dizziness. It would take some time for his body to adjust to the blood loss, but for now, he was a pale, stumbling mess. He considered eating something, but chose not to test Dracula's patience. As always, he appeared to have absolutely no sympathy or compassion for Isaac's condition, and expected unwavering obedience at all times. If Isaac had only one breath of life left in him, Dracula could expect it to be used in service to him.

Not that Isaac would dream of submitting to anyone any softer than Dracula.

Suppressing the urge to vomit from sickness, Isaac led the way down the stone steps, slightly slippery from mold, and used this time to mold his face into a shell of hardness for Hector. He felt that Hector was pretty much broken by now, but if he sensed any weakness in Isaac, that would embolden him.

Hector was on the floor, unchained but very weak. He had been cleaned, but still looked terrible and hardly alive. At first, when he looked up, his eyes were blank, but when the realization hit him, Hector scrambled back against the wall, staring up with fear. Isaac stood back to watch, ready to jump to any command given, but he wished he could escape back upstairs. A part of him relished the agony on Hector's face and hoped to see him tormented further, but that old jealousy had returned with a clawing, biting vengeance at the sight of his master touching Hector's face.

If Isaac had an ounce more bravery, he would given in to his rage and murdered Hector right there, with his bare hands, and he would have gladly faced whatever Dracula would do to him with peace.

But that was just a fantasy, a favorite one, but still totally unrealistic. He escaped into it at that moment, to flee from watching Dracula and Hector together, asking himself what was really holding him back. His palms were bleeding from how hard he was clenching his fists as he imagined, in as much detail as he could, killing Hector. He imagined, first off, yanking hector out of Dracula's grip, then perhaps stomping into his guts. Maybe, just maybe, his master would see this as an act of devotion and be impressed…

Hector's growl awoke him from his reverie. Sadly, he was too distracted by what was happening in front of him to go back to focusing on his daydream. Hector groaned and struggled weakly as Dracula fed on him, and judging from the amount of fight still left in him, Dracula was taking his time. Hector's pain and groans and blood appealed to Isaac's sadism, but that was hardly a comfort for the betrayal he felt. He'd rather his master lower himself to feasting off beasts than to see him take sustenance from Hector.

Isaac stood back with arms crossed, head titled, scowl firmly in place, safe behind Dracula's back, while his master collected Hector in his arms. His fellow Devil Forge Master tried to clutch at fabric to support himself, tried to find his footing, but he was totally weak. It actually enraged Isaac even more to see Hector visibly much weaker with Dracula than he had ever been with him. Mostly this weakness was mental, as if all this time Hector had been rebelling against Isaac, however pitifully, but Dracula had the power to tear down any defenses. Isaac knew he shouldn't expect to rival his master in anything, but this still stung him.

Without turning to look at him, Dracula snapped at Isaac to retrieve Hector's clothes. Isaac was quick to obey, and offered not a sound of resistance, but inside he was roiling. Now reduced to assist Hector, to dress him, probably even clean him, he thought. This was worse than merely serving Dracula alongside him. Isaac tried to ward off the dread that this was just a warning of things to come, that once again Hector would be held so close to Dracula's heart, despite his betrayal.

/I should have killed him that very day!/ Isaac thought bitterly, over and over again, like a mantra, as he climbed the slick steps and rooted around that worn out dwelling for the moth eaten rags that use to be Hector's clothes. He had long since discarded his armor or any materials that would suggest rank, including his weapons and the curious items Isaac found attached to his belt. He could have at least kept Hector's sword, elegant and well made as it was, but he felt that would give Hector too much credit. Now he hoped that Dracula would not ask for it.

With a cooling rage, Isaac returned with a small bundle in his arms. One look at his master and he immediately began to dress Hector, feeling Dracula's eyes burning in his back. Hector did nothing to help with the chore and didn't even look at Isaac, or anything else in particular. If his eyes had been closed, he would have looked dead. His breathing was certainly shallow enough for that impression, his skin tone sickly pale.

So bothered by Hector's stillness, convinced it was an act of spiteful rebellion, Isaac took a clump of hair and gave it a quick, hard yank to get a reaction out of Hector. Hector winced and grunted, but couldn't offer much else. This made Isaac all the more determined to express his anger when he would have the chance.

And then the self-loathing came back; if he had any bravery, he would snuff out this already weak and fading life sagging in his arms and take his rightful place as Dracula's only general. Surely, he tormented himself, he should be worth more than this traitor.

Soothing himself with the promise that one day his threats would come true, that this was just a temporary unpleasantness he had to go through to prove his worth to Dracula, Isaac was forced to carry Hector from the dwelling in his arms. When he tried to force Hector to walk, the man just collapsed. /Enjoying making me look like a fool/ Isaac suspected, but he picked him up before Dracula could order him to do so. Obviously his lord wanted to move on as quickly as possible.

His feet were heavy in the dead, colorless dust, and he wasn't sure why. There was a different emotion niggling in his mind, besides the all too familiar jealousy and frustration. He only felt it while Dracula's back was turned against him and when he happened to glance down at Hector's mass of gray curls pressed against his shoulder, his eyes closed in vulnerable sleep.

He hadn't always hated his partner, Isaac reflected, but quickly pushed that aside. Whatever the circumstances might have been before, Hector destroyed that by his betrayal.

And if his master could not see that, then by everything unholy, Isaac swore he would make him.


	3. Chapter 3

Hector faded in and out of consciousness for a while, and it took quite some time for him to even realize he was no longer chained up in that dank dungeon. The shapes and colors were fuzzy and drab, but as his vision cleared, he began to notice things that must have been branches in the sky and stones on the ground, but he couldn't believe it. Just as he couldn't make sense of what he was feeling moving his body along. Bit by confusing bit, Hector slowly awoke to the reality of his situation.

He wished he'd pass out again.

He was attached to a horse by ropes, and there were additional binds for his legs and his hands behind his back. The horse was trotting across the dark and unfamiliar landscape, with some other creature Hector still couldn't identify jogging just behind it.

As his awareness increased, so did his sensations, growing from numb, to slight discomfort, to pain, worse in some areas than others. Old injuries, like where he'd been bound, ached dully, as if his body had been slightly healed before this trip. A more obvious ache at the bottom of his pelvis and thighs suggested he'd been riding for a while.

But even more discomforting was the feeling of another body pressed behind him. He could recognize who it was just by the feel of his attire, the smooth leather pants tight around his hips, cold hard metallic pieces jabbing him in the back.

Hector peered behind him, but because he didn't want Isaac to notice him moving, he didn't look very far. He couldn't tell if Isaac was watching him or not, but he did notice Isaac's arms flanking him rather casually as he held the reins.

Hector went back to facing front, and relaxed a bit. At least until the end of this strange ride he'd be left in peace, and he could even steal some enjoyment out of feeling Isaac's body anchoring him still, protecting him from the elements. If Hector could dismiss the memories, he could imagine Isaac to be sheltering him out of care, he could pretend to feel safe in those arms.

Isaac shifted behind him, probably trying to ease his own muscles from getting too sore. Obviously he hadn't had a break from the ride, either. Wherever they were going it was in a hurry, but it was too far to gallop the whole way.

/Could we be.../ Hector began to speculate, and he supposed it must be so. He saw Dracula with his own eyes therefore there must be only one destination for the uneasy pair.

Back to Dracula's castle... Hector groaned from the sudden realization, and the dark dread that came with it. Suddenly his surroundings were of vital interest to him; he searched for a means of escape, provided he could untie himself, get away from Isaac...

"Awake at last," Isaac said flatly, as if he'd already known for some time.

Hector just tensed and said nothing. Just the sound of his tormentor's voice sounded off alarms in his mind, old injuries singing out in recollection. Would this trip mean the end of Isaac's brutality? He wondered, knowing full well it would not, if he had the slightest chance. Not that life, however long he really had left, as Dracula's prisoner would be any better. At least he could rely on Isaac killing him some day soon in the heat of his fickle passion. Dracula had the patience, and certainly the time, to keep him alive and suffering for a long, long time.

Some time had passed before he stopped those thoughts, and he found it odd that Isaac was ignoring him. As he was locked between Isaac's legs, Hector even noticed the Isaac wasn't hard, suggesting that Isaac wasn't even thinking about his prisoner. Or perhaps he was just too tired, having to save all his energy for the ride.

It was peaceful to be left alone, for sure. He was morbidly dreading the inevitable, and still traumatized from his time in that dungeon, but Hector relaxed enough to just gaze at the scenery and enjoy the feeling of Isaac's body against his own. There was once a time when such a feeling was common, and slightly more pleasant.

/

Isaac had known of Hector's slow return to consciousness some time before he remarked upon it. He would have stayed quiet the entire trip, but couldn't resist a little jab. But he strove to completely ignore Hector, in case one word led to an action that led to disobeying Dracula's command, which was to bring Hector back in one piece. It was taking a considerable amount of effort and will power to keep his raging fantasies from turning into irrevocable actions.

Isaac had been cruel and rough when he had Hector all to himself, but now that Dracula had returned, everything changed.

He had not wanted to leave when his master commanded him to search for Hector. Even the promise of taking out some frustration on him once he found him wasn't enough. Of course he obeyed immediately and without a word of displeasure, but he hoped he would be back soon, ready for life to get back to normal.

For that short time after Hector left, life was Hell for Isaac. A part of him missed Hector, and very painfully. Of course he could have his way with any human he came across, and some even slept with him willingly, before they realized their destiny was to become food.

He had no end of fantasy fulfillment among the many different victims, but none could emulate Hector. Maybe it was the fact that they shared so much already. Many struggles Isaac faced, he knew Hector could relate to. Not that he had ever sought any comfort from Hector, at least not verbally, but it was comforting enough to know that he wasn't the only one.

But it was also the fact that Hector could never truly be his. Other humans were either forced or went to him willingly, and both situations got boring after a while. Even when Hector came to him willingly, Isaac could tell that Hector was leaving a part of himself elsewhere. Isaac could never truly reach his partner.

And when he had forced himself or fought against him in the past, Hector always fought back, and often won. Sometimes Isaac would start a fight just for the thrill of it, eager for either a triumphant victory, or a thrilling defeat.

But no matter how he felt about Hector, his master came first, both in heart and loyalty. No matter how close Hector had ever let Isaac in, he would always be the "other" one, the bedraggled boy rescued from the woods and the vicious, hateful humans, the boy that had to prove his worth to Dracula.

Except he did prove it in spades, because not long after that, Isaac noticed a definite shift in favor. Not that Isaac was ever foolish enough to imagine that Dracula thought of him as a son or anything like that, nor did he completely cast him aside for Hector, but there was still an unpleasant difference. Now it was Isaac's turn to prove himself, and he did not like that insecurity.

And the jealousy! No one and nothing could hurt him as much as the horrible, hateful jealousy of Hector's place in Dracula's heart. He wasn't sure exactly how far it ever went; he had seen some things in the past that could bring him to tears of rage...

...his mind wandered to that memory. This was a few years ago, but the memory was clear as ever, and still painful. He was wandering the castle, enjoying a bit of a rest after training with Slogras. They'd given him quite a work out, but he was in good spirits.

He made his way to one of Dracula's most frequent haunts, a large, ornate room that glowed with an eerie light, even though the sparse candles did not seem enough to cause it. He loved to come in every so often and spend time with his master, who seemed to appreciate his presence, even though he rarely talked to him. And even rarer would his master be intimate with him, and that only happened at the most unexpected times.

The sex always accompanied a feeding, and in those days, since Dracula always had a store of fresh humans to feed from, taking blood from Isaac was unnecessary. He never explained why he did it, but Isaac chose to believe it was gesture of appreciation, of desire. Isaac loved it all the same.

The sight that greeted him as he began to turn the corner to enter stopped him cold. A bitter, vicious jealousy froze his blood, but he had the sense to retreat just behind the wall to watch and hide.

Hector was limp in Dracula's arms, his own arms hanging lamely, as if he had been embracing Dracula passionately till he suddenly lost the energy. Their mouths were locked together, Hector merely accepting Dracula's rough, urgent kiss.

Now, Isaac had seen Dracula display affection for Hector before. It was rare, but till this day, Isaac believed that he alone was special to his master. Even if Dracula would praise Hector's fighting and forging skills more than Isaac's, at least Isaac could boast that he was used more often to satiate Dracula's hungers.

And then, as Dracula finally pulled away from Hector's lips, Isaac saw, to his horror, blood dribbling down both their chins.

Witnessing Dracula seek sexual release from Hector was difficult enough, but as Isaac knew all too well, mere physical contact didn't have to mean anything. No matter how passionate, sex was just sex to Isaac, until something else was added to it, some other kind of significance. Taking Hector's blood as nourishment was that significance.

That should have been him, Isaac though with rage, clinging to the door frame so hard he drove splinters through his gloved fingers. It was gut wrenching, and yet irresistible to watch his master sensuously lick the crimson mess from the pale skin of Hector's neck, and even delicately nibble from blood soaked strands of ash colored hair.

As his head lolled to the side from Dracula's attentions, Hector's eyes rolled towards Isaac, and then flashed weakly with sudden attention. Without even thinking, Isaac fled, and he stayed in his own quarters for days. He would have stayed there, or at least alone out in the courtyard and the woods surrounding the castle, if Hector hadn't come for him an especially dark night later.

Isaac was clenching his teeth just thinking about how infuriatingly indifferent Hector had been, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Isaac never dared admit any frustrations directed against his master, not even to himself, so any problems he had could be blamed on anyone else. But with Hector not mentioning the other night, it made Isaac believe that Hector knew exactly what he was doing and was delighting in Isaac's suffering.

Just as that night, when Hector hunted him down deep in the outlying forest, lightly damp from the mild rain, he did not ask where Isaac had been all this time, or why he hadn't shown his face, nor did he even suggest that their master had noticed he was missing. Isaac had no desire to leave, but this made him wonder if he would actually be missed if he did. Such a suspicion was truly painful, and Hector's silence seemed to confirm that with smug detachment.

But instead of giving Hector the same smug treatment, Isaac had walked right up to him and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him in for a kiss. Hector responded just as roughly, driving his hands beneath the thin leather of Isaac's pants, and even broke some of the fastenings at the top. Isaac growled when Hector squeezed him, and rubbed against Hector's hand, while he bit down on Hector's lip. His lust seemed to fuel his rage, and vice versa.

Isaac drew his lips away only to push the hair back from Hector's neck. When he saw the skin smooth and bare, he forcibly turned Hector's head to see the other side. No scars, no evidence of what happened. Isaac frowned and Hector grinned, combing his hair back with his fingers. Obviously he had gotten the wounds healed and the scars erased. That angered Isaac even more; while he did have himself healed after a feeding, he always left the scars. Behind his heavy collar was a sizable collection of small dent like scars he liked to gaze at in a mirror and run his fingers over sometimes. Wearing a collar only seemed to call attention to the fact that he had something to hide beneath it.

Narrowing his eyes, Isaac grabbed Hector by the neck and squeezed. He snarled as Hector let out a dry grunt, but beyond that, he did not struggle, even as Isaac pushed him downwards, forcing Hector's knees to buckle under the pressure. Hector gripped Isaac's hips and grit his teeth, but he stared back up at Isaac with defiance, almost daring him to kill him.

Isaac would not dare kill what was obviously Dracula's favorite. He couldn't even imagine the wrath he would suffer for that, and even worse, Dracula would never forgive him for it.

So like every other time he played with Hector's life like this, Isaac stopped himself before it got too far, just as Hector expected. He often wondered what was really stopping him, his fear of Dracula or the pure enjoyment of fucking with Hector?

Even now, years later, Isaac could not answer. When he thought Dracula was dead, he should have had no reason to hesitate. A bit of torture for the sake of revenge and fun was understandable. But why did he let it go so long...

Isaac sensed something in the trees and slowed his horse. The Slogra seemed to notice too, but he didn't slow down. When Isaac ordered it to investigate, it just glared at him and kept going as it was. Isaac growled, but knew he could not expect obedience from that creature. Very few could get away with disrespecting Isaac, and unfortunately the Slogra was one of them.

Isaac let the insult go and kept scanning the forest. He was fairly sure that between him and the Slogra, whatever or whoever was out there stood no chance.

Even if it was who he thought it was.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

/A Slogra! That fiend has a Slogra/ thought the road-weary Belmont, his back pressed against a tree, the fog and darkness providing temporary refuge. He watched the figure on the horse very carefully, making sure he was not spotted, while he tried to find a better hiding place.

Trevor had traveled miles and miles, hardly resting even after battling Hector. That fight had been vicious; it was as if he couldn't stop Hector fast enough, once he discovered that he did not have a great chance beating him. Hector was surprisingly strong and fought with a cold brutality that disturbed Trevor. The dark look in his eyes, as if he really didn't care if he bludgeoned a perfect stranger to death to save his own skin, stayed with Trevor long after he left him in peace. Yes, Trevor had attacked first, and he could not expect Hector to know that he would have spared his life, but this was more than self-defense. It was almost as though his rival had lost his humanity during the fight, and he remembered it slowly only when Trevor surrendered.

No matter how strong Hector proved to be, he was just a man, and not even the most formidable he'd come across. Trevor could not expect to survive another encounter with Dracula if a mere man had given him a challenge.

Yet here he was, on the hunt once again. It was foolhardy, it was premature, but it was already too late. He'd gone too far to turn back now. His horse was dead, his supplies almost gone, but his fierce determination to kill what he himself had already killed drove him out into those dark, treacherous woods.

And now Hector was a prisoner, useless to help.

Trevor had never seen the red-haired man before, but was able enough to figure out who he was and what he was doing with Hector, which made Trevor's gut turn cold just to think about it. If Hector could be turned back to Dracula's side...

Trevor threw himself back behind the tree just as Isaac's gaze nearly fell on him. He was concerned about being forced to fight so soon. The darkness, the unholiness of this forest, being so close to where Dracula was surely hiding, was so thick, that he wondered if his powers would even work here. Or, which was even more worrisome, if they would be effective enough. If he fought decisively and was careful to keep himself from getting hit, he was sure he could take out the Slogra, but he had no idea what kind of fighter Isaac was. Especially if his colleague, the supposedly least evil of the two, was such a brute.

But then again, he could not afford to waste any more time resting. He may lose the trail, or Isaac could have recruited more help by the time he came back, and simply sleeping wasn't going to fully heal him anyway.

Trevor knew he had to act, and soon. After a brief but heartfelt prayer he wasn't sure would reach its target, Trevor slid from his hiding place and right up behind the Slogra. Even in his exhaustion, he was able to jump right up on its back without alerting it, and drove a knife into its neck.

The creature shrieked and thrashed, instantly alerting Isaac and his horse, which reared and howled a sound nearly as blood curdling as the Slogra's. The Slogra's heavy, scaly body tried to shake Trevor off, but he managed to stay on its back for a few more minutes and stabbed it again.

He tried to keep an eye on Isaac, but felt it was safest on the Slogra's back, for at least he would not be hit or bitten by it. On any other living creature that neck wound would have been mortal, but it was impossible to tell with the Slogra, who did not seem to be slowing down. It seemed enraged and hurt, but probably still very dangerous.

The fact that Isaac was just watching this, making no attempt to flee or attack, worried Trevor, but he promised himself that he would indeed give that bastard some trouble. Furiously impatient, he stabbed the Slogra over and over, growling through gnashing teeth as he did so. Ever since he set foot in this darkened, cursed land, Trevor had been weighed down by an unusually frayed temper. It definitely felt good to tear this creature's life out of its body with his own hands.

Trevor jumped from its body when it collapsed. He panted and trembled slightly from his exertion, while staring up at Isaac, who looked infuriatingly smug and serene. Wiping sweat and Slogra blood from his brow, Trevor snarled, "Hand him over."

He was taken aback by Isaac's laugh, the ear splitting, chilling noise of it, and knew he was in for trouble from the look Isaac gave him. He stared back with ultra confident contempt, as if Trevor were a bug, and he hated having to dirty his boot by stepping on him.

Then when he wrapped an arm around Hector's torso and squeezed him against himself as much as the bonds allowed, Trevor realized that his foe had even more of a motivation to defeat him. The gesture made him think of how desperate he would fight for Sypha if he had to, and his spirits nearly sank completely.

Isaac leaned over and bared his teeth, sneering, "Come and get him."

Scowling back, Trevor flung a fist full of knives at Isaac, who lunged out of the way and made his horse rear up, forcing Trevor to throw himself out of the way. "Get off your horse!" Trevor yelled.

"Why?" Isaac snorted, making his horse prance around Trevor, nearly trampling him. "Is it too unfair for you?"

"I merely thought you'd want to fight me like a man, not a coward," Trevor snapped. "You're not fighting, you're merely stalling."

Isaac glared for a moment, then jumped off. Without hesitation he walked up to Trevor, close enough to touch him, and stared him down. Trevor held his ground, but used this time to try to study his opponent. Isaac was about the same height, although that was hard to determine, since his boots were high-heeled. The man looked to be young in age, but any youth he might have possessed had clearly been stolen from him, if Trevor could judge just by appearance. His eyes, a strange and hard to identify color, bored through his own with a terrible malevolence, not a trace of mercy in them.

Trevor had no doubt that this man would rip him to pieces if he let him. And just as clear was the fact that Hector was not a lover to him, but a possession.

Isaac took him by surprise as he lunged at him, pure, animalistic rage empowering him. Trevor briefly wondered if this were not some kind of demon, rather than a man, as he struggled on the ground beneath him. The two wrestled for a while on the ground, Trevor horribly frustrated from lack of energy. He did not feel enough of a holy influence to enable his powers, and besides, attempting them required a second longer than he had.

He did still have knives, however, and even with his hands slippery with Slogra blood, Trevor was able to pull one out. With a grunt, he lunged forward and stabbed Isaac in the side. He would have got him higher up on the body had Isaac not moved suddenly.

The redhead barked out in pain, but mostly rage, as it sounded to Trevor, and wrenched himself away and off his attacker. Trevor hurried to his feet, his eyes stuck on Isaac, who was already standing. Even with blood dribbling from his wound, the man did not even seem to be hurt, just even more angry.

And then he grinned. A slow, toothy, dark smile spread on his face, his eyes glinting with malice, and Trevor shivered. He could feel his own energy levels dangerously lowered from that scuffle, as short as it was, and felt the dark presence around them even more stifling. But he watched Isaac carefully as he approached, and gripped another knife, ready to hurl it. Trevor was determined to survive this fight, and he did not even care what he would be forced to do this to man as a result.

Isaac sidestepped quickly, trotting over to the Slogra corpse. Before Trevor could stop him, he took the dead beast's staff and swung it in deadly arcs just above Trevor's head, laughing the whole time. At any time, Trevor realized, Isaac could have decapitated or simply impaled him. He was playing with him.

Now it was Trevor's turn to be angry. His exhaustion helped fuel this indignation; he didn't have time for this! Just behind Isaac' head, Hector could be seen slumped over the horse, just barely breathing.

That laugh of Isaac's was severely grating on Trevor's last nerves. It even distracted him; Trevor went to dodge a strike, but waited too long. But instead of stabbing him, Isaac slammed the hard edge of the staff against Trevor's body, knocking the wind out of him and driving him to the ground.

Desperately, Trevor pulled out his last vial of holy water and hurled it at Isaac. The tiny jar broke on his face, and the man drew back, but only for a moment. He plucked bits of broken glass from his eye and hair, and while he did seem hurt by this, he also didn't seem to really care.

He noticed with chagrin that the water itself made no difference, but he knew he had to act quickly. While Isaac raised his staff, Isaac grabbed his whip, managing to slice Isaac across the belly with it before his opponent could lower his weapon.

The duo faced off for a bitter struggle. Isaac's merriment was gone, replaced with a fierce, terrifying determination. Now he was not merely playing, but definitely trying to strike him down. They both exchanged attacks, just a few actually hitting, but those that connected were serious. Isaac's face and chest was marked and bleeding from the lash, and even his armor was dented in places from direct hits. Trevor's clothes were just about shredded, oozing wounds everywhere, but nothing too vital yet.

But as Trevor readied for another savage crack of his whip, he lost his footing on the slick, muddy ground, giving Isaac the chance to swing at him. Trevor threw his head to the side, but could not entirely miss it. The spear tip bit greedily through the flesh of Trevor's neck. Trevor threw his hands to the wound, instantly incapacitated, eyes bulging, fighting for breath.

Digging into the dirt with his fingers, Trevor tried to fight against the pain and the feeling of his life slipping away, in a desperate attempt to defend himself. He had one hand pressed hard against the wound on his neck, and the other alternatively clutching his whip and the ground beneath him. Isaac's boot soon relieved his hand of the whip, and then kicked him onto his back. The sudden violence made Trevor choke and gasp, and he braced himself for another kick.

But Isaac knelt down to him and ripped a piece of cloth from the Belmont's shirt. Impatiently he brushed Trevor's hand off and pressed the makeshift bandage against the wound, doing a better job than Trevor's weak hand in stopping the blood flow.

"You'll live, if you have a mind to," Isaac grunted, staring at Trevor for a while. Trevor hated the cold look in his eyes, and hated even more Isaac's lingering hand. He would not have felt any more vulnerable if Isaac were holding a knife to his throat.

He had no wish to die, but thinking of Hector tied to the horse, defenseless against whatever Isaac had planned for him, was what motivated Trevor to stop himself from giving in to the ever growing weakness. Besides, the very idea of allowing a creature such as Isaac to take his life when so many others couldn't infuriated him. He was already angry that he had been defeated at all.

As angry and pained as he was, however, not once did Trevor stop scheming against his new captor.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Trevor's body was cumbersome dead weight, and after that fight, Isaac was struggling with it. He wouldn't allow his prisoner to see this, though, so he took his time as if he had all the time in the world. As soon as he brought Trevor to the horse, he practically dropped the man and took hold of his arms. Trevor let out his breath in a sharp hiss from being jostled so roughly, giving Isaac the chance to pull Trevor's hands behind his back and then bind them.

He took his eyes off Trevor just long enough to take from a bag hanging from the horse's saddle a vial of noxious liquid. With a grim look on his face, Isaac snatched the bloody rag that stuck to Trevor's neck, poured some of the strong smelling liquid to it, and reached around Trevor's head to force it on his face. After one distressed inhale, Trevor passed out, and Isaac used the same rag to apply more pressure to the wound on his neck till it stopped bleeding, then let Trevor's body collapse to the ground. He tossed the filthy rag into the shadows with disgust and summoned his fairy to help heal him. The innocent devil also took the edge of Trevor's wounds at Isaac's command. Isaac did not want Trevor dying on the way.

Really, Isaac did not want to have anything to do with his new charge. He already despised him for having fought against his lord, but Isaac also didn't like how heavy Trevor was. It was a real pain getting him up on the saddle, and Isaac would now have to reach over both of them to grip the reins. But with the Slogra dead, there was no other option. Thankfully, he didn't have that much farther to suffer this.

The fact that he found Trevor fine to look at only aggravated him more, because that meant even more competition for Dracula's favor. But if he did not hope for some gratitude for doing this, he would not have let Trevor live. He predicted, nay, counted on the fact that Dracula would be delighted with this gift, and after he had his fun with the prisoner, Dracula would return his affections back to Isaac.

For what gift could be greater than the chance at revenge?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone that's been commenting on this. It is such a boost and a motivator to receive reviews for every chapter I publish. I would not be writing this if I didn't feel that people are liking it. I'm sorry about the wait between chapters, and I have no idea how long this will end up being. Probably pretty damn long if I go the way I intend to, but I hope you gusy stick with it till the bitter end.

I'd love it if you guys checked out my CV art at deviantart. I can't post links here for some reason, but you can find me there as mwaters. There's some Isaac/Hector and Trevor/Hector stuff, and I'm always doing more.

So keep the comments coming, even if it's just a quick thing. I really, really appreciate it!

Ch. 5

With the help of a few enslaved men who worked on the promise of freedom that wouldn't ever be honored, Isaac unloaded his prisoners from the horse and half led, half dragged them through the castle. They were both barely awake, Hector more so than Trevor, but there wasn't a trace of rebellion in his mind. His stomach was churning, empty and yet burning with sickness, his entire body a weak, useless husk. As foul and desperate as those wretches that held him were, Hector leaned on them anyway, knowing he'd surely collapse without them.

A lazy glance towards Trevor, who was on Isaac's other side and also supported by men revealed his body to be pitifully weak, but his half opened and swollen eyes were sharp and piercing, staring straight ahead. Hector was jostled around too roughly to keep his eyes long enough on Trevor to catch his attention. Not that his fixed, baleful gaze was likely to shift, anyway.

This was not the same castle he'd spent his growing up years in. It had the same, painfully familiar dark gloom, the same kinds of disgusting creatures lurking around, only this time they stared at Hector with a chilling viciousness, knowing that he held no power over them. If not for Isaac's presence, the monster would have descended on Hector and Trevor both.

"Hurry it up!" Isaac snapped, but he only nudged Hector, ignoring Trevor. The ragged porters hurried the prisoners along, driving them like cattle, but no one moved much faster. Half dazed and numbed already from walking through the incessant hallways, Isaac's voice startled Hector and got his mind working the familiarity of the hallways bringing on a flashback.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Hector had been soaked by the time he returned to the castle, but he didn't care. When he got to his quarters, he removed everything but a few simple garments, and then lounged on his sleeping pallet to polish his sword with a rag.

Just as he expected, Isaac sulked in, the sound of his boots echoing heavily through the halls a dead give away. Isaac had the look of a beaten dog on his damp face. Long, drawn mouth, hair plastered to his head from the rain, miserable eyes shining with spite. In fact, with the way he slunk in, quiet and subdued, Hector could have mistaken him for a normal person. He couldn't tell if this was an act or not, but he'd never seen him quite like this. He rather liked it.

With that haunted look smoldering straight into Hector's eyes, Isaac stalked towards him, shedding the heaviest bits of his armor. Hector lay back, aware of the all too familiar look of selfish hunger lurking in those eyes. He knew what was about to come, and he wanted as much as dreaded it, but there would no hope in fighting him off this time. Ready or not, Hector spread his legs and accepted Isaac's body on top of his own as if it belonged there.

Isaac's mouth was savage, greedy, his teeth and tongue ripping into Hector's mouth as if he were eating it. There was blood trickling down his chin before they were done. With their mouths still locked, Isaac thrust his hand between Hector's legs and ripped impatiently at the cloth of his pants. Hector tried to help him by pulling them down, but Isaac ripped them with a fierce tug, causing the back of them to cut into Hector's flesh painfully. Hector hissed just a bit louder than he was already.

Hector knew Isaac had seen him with Dracula, and could tell this was his way of revenge. Doubtless he would end up injured from this, but for the moment he allowed himself to relish it. There was always a reason to fear Isaac, for his mood swings, his brutality, his general instability of the mind. Hector would not be able to avoid making him jealous if he tried; if their master spoke to Hector first, or looked at him longer, that would be enough to set something off in Isaac's mind, but whether he would focus his attention on working harder to please Dracula, or take it out on Hector or a prisoner was impossible to tell.

Hector would not bother trying to talk to him about this if he wanted to. There was nothing to talk about, and Isaac would never listen anyway. All that mattered was that Isaac was hurt and insecure, and he needed a warm, somewhat willing body to help him through it.

There was a tender moment suddenly, after they were both stripped bare. Isaac sat on Hector's hips and looked at him a moment, his features softened, sad. Hector felt the urge to reach up and touch him, or even to speak his name. This man he'd lived with for so many years was such a stranger to him, so cold and distant and unreachable. Not even sex or sharing a kill could bring them together, he felt. And now it looked like he was about to weep, to finally break through that shell. Hector didn't dare breathe, lest he startle Isaac into growing cold again.

But he went cold anyway, as sudden as if he had turned to stone, and he threw a terrible glare down on Hector, who frowned in return, confused and hurt. Without a word, Isaac scooted lower and took Hector's cock in to his mouth rabidly, biting as much as sucking. Hector growled and gripped the linen sheets.

Isaac threw his hands up to Hector's chest and dragged his fingernails down his body, slicing through his skin, all the while still brutalizing him with his mouth. He liberally got the member wet, so that he could then get up and slip it into himself, facing Hector.

With Hector inside him, Isaac snarled for him to grip the headboard. When Hector disobeyed, Isaac slapped him hard across the cheek, his nails scratching, and then gripped his throat tight, commanding him to do it. A good thrust of the hips helped persuade Hector. Isaac kept his hand tight around Hector's neck as he fucked himself on Hector, and used his other hand to stroke himself. His hair flung wildly and his eyes were squeezed shut as he growled and moaned. The small chains connecting his collar and armor pieces clinked in rhythm.

Hector fought for breath and gripped the headboard hard enough to scratch dents into it. If one arm slackened, Isaac shoved himself against Hector's hips savagely, and dug his thumb into Hector's throat. The pain and the stress was as exquisite as the pleasure, and he knew he would come within minutes. Seconds if Isaac scratched his fingers through Hector's hair as he sometimes liked to do.

But Isaac ripped himself off and knelt over Hector, his knees on either side of the other's body. Hector glared and growled up at him, frustrated and angry. Isaac just sneered and pulled one of Hector's hands off the headboard to put it on his own cock. "Finish me," he growled.

Hector gripped it tight and pumped, all the while glaring up into Isaac's face, which broke from a scowl into pained pleasure. Soon he had his hands on the bed, too, head hanging over Hector's, eyes closed, moaning. This softened Hector and turned the chore into something he could enjoy. If only Isaac would surrender some intimacy, some honest emotion other than anger, then he would gladly service Isaac in any way he wished to bring him pleasure. Each time a ripple of ecstasy passed through Isaac's body because of his hand motions, Hector hoped that would bring Isaac closer to finally trusting him.

Meanwhile he was arching his back to rub himself against Isaac's hips, but Isaac moved up further along his torso, keeping himself out of reach, and he snarled when Hector tried to bring his other hand from the headboard.

At last Isaac threw himself on Hector, clutching at his chest, and turned his head to howl into his body as he came. Hector could only see Isaac's body shudder, and the top of his head grind against his chin, but this was common; he was often deprived of seeing Isaac's face when he was brought to this level of pleasure, as if Isaac were stealing it from him.

The red head pulled his head up to look at Hector just seconds afterward, and kissed him softly, moaning as he did so. Hector returned the kiss, excited that perhaps Isaac was finally allowing himself to be vulnerable with him, but then he broke away, looked down with scorn, and slammed his fist between Hector's legs.

The pain was immobilizing; he could only curl up and gasp for breath helplessly as Isaac walked naked out of his room.

%%%%%%%%%%

The two prisoners had been healed a little bit and left in a small dungeon alone for perhaps hours. They were attached to the slimy, cold stone walls by great shackles on their neck, and cuffs for their hands. Sleep was an arduous process of passing out, waking in a disturbed fit, then repeating it over and over.

Finally, Hector attempted to speak. "Belmont?"

He felt that by now he could address the man by his first name, but he couldn't recall if he'd even given it when they first met. In fact, if the Belmont line weren't quite so legendary, Hector doubted he would have even remember the detail of the man's name at all. His vicious scar, his respectable fighting style, his whip, he could vividly remember, even dazed and in pain, but little else.

Trevor grunted weakly, more air than sound. Hector crawled on his knees towards him. Although he felt the chain connecting his collar to the wall tug as he reached the limit, he could still creep close enough to touch Trevor, if only his hands were free. He called his name again, softer this time. Seeing Trevor so broken, unable to even answer him deeply depressed him. As it was, Hector was in a mood as dark as grim as his surroundings.

Trevor finally struggled to sit up after Hector called him again, more panicked this time. "You can call me Trevor," he croaked with dry, cracked lips.

Hector smiled slightly, for at least his companion had some presence of mind. But what what pleasure he had from Trevor waking up faded as he went back to worrying about bodily needs. There was nothing to eat or drink in this damp, dark room, and his binds were forcing his body in unnatural, awkward poses. He could lose the circulation of his arms, at the very least, if he stayed tied like this for long.

But Trevor looked so much worse than Hector felt. Thinking back on that battle they had, Hector had determined Trevor to be a strong, tough man, willing to face pain with bravery. Even now he looked defiant, even angry, but his body was in desperate need of medical attention.

They were both still clothed, but as Trevor turned to lie on his back, trying to hold back groans as he did so, Hector saw a dark, ugly scar on his chest. One end of it licked his collar bone, and the other end withered beyond where Hector could see, beneath his ragged shirt. It was even deeper than the one on his face, a nasty blight of a thing that could not be ignored whenever he so much as glanced at him.

Finally, he made himself just ask where he got them.

Trevor gave him a hard gaze without turning his head, and a strange smirk. He was studying Hector now just as carefully. He answered slowly, and with a dark edge to his voice, "Dracula's claws."

Hector's breath tightened ever so slightly. He had convinced Trevor that he was no longer loyal to Dracula, but still he felt strangely self-concious. Perhaps Trevor still did not trust him, or perhaps Hector doubted Trevor's trust. He knew he could not trust one such as himself, where he in Trevor's place. Whatever the case, Hector felt the burn of guilt, whether he deserved it or not.

After an uncomfortable silence, Trevor said, "We need to get out of here."

Hector looked grim. "Of course, but we can't do anything right now."

Trevor gazed hard at him, and Hector felt the blood rush to his face. Now he was beginning to get angry at his own guilty, paranoid feelings. So to put some of that to rest, he explained with finality, "My history here was not for nothing, Trevor. I know by now how Isaac and Dracula work. If Dracula wanted us dead, we wouldn't be speaking right now."

"So we wait till your dear friend brings us some aid, to ensure we survive whatever their plans may be?" Trevor asked darkly.

Hector glared. "Yes. But I will have you know, he is no friend to me, and he never was. You need not doubt my loyalty."

"Well, especially since you keep insisting on it," Trevor smirked, then broke into a fit of coughing.

Hector drew back, instinctively fearing the other was contagious from something, but then reddened with shame. If Trevor had any ill disease, it was from what had happened to them both, not some plague. But as much as he would like to perhaps position himself closer to offer any sort of comfort to the other, Hector stayed reserved. He couldn't be sure he could offer any comfort. More of his life had been spent killing than healing, after all.

Seemingly embarrassed, Trevor looked away, struggling with his chains to get a more comfortable position. Hector watched as the other fumed silently to himself, like a slowly building flame. And just like a flame finding some dry tinder, Trevor blew up, yelling suddenly with a dry, hoarse voice, and pulled against the chains so hard he caused his skin to bleed. He seemed not to care how much he was injuring himself as he kicked against the wall and tugged with everything he had.

Stunned at first, Hector hissed, "Stop it! You're only making things worse, Belmont!" He was speaking mostly out of fear for himself; this could not bode well for either of them.

Weakness was overtaking him, but he continued trying to free himself as loudly as possible, and cast a nasty glare to Hector. "You can stay here if you wish, but not me." The effort was taking everything out of him; he was sweating and panting hard.

Imagining he heard approaching footsteps, Hector panicked. He would have grabbed Trevor by the hair if he could, so he had to content himself with growling at him to stop. Even in his violent outburst, Trevor seemed to know what he was doing. Trouble was, Hector couldn't tell if Trevor was including him in his plans. The loneliness he felt when he realized this was almost as painful as the bruises on his body.

Finally, Trevor stopped and stared straight ahead, panting for a good while. Hector snarled at him, keeping his voice low. "Exactly what was that?"

Trevor took his time answering. "When you find your strength, you must weaken your chains as well."

"You think you can rip them out of the wall?" Hector had to restrain from shouting.

His face pale and drawn, Trevor nodded with a strained grin. "As long as we are left in here long enough."

Hector would have said something, but stopped at a growing sound. The same footsteps he thought he heard were back, and getting closer this time. The door to this dungeon had a small barred window that let in a flood of candle light from the hallways just outside, and while Hector waited with bated breath, it filled with a dark, reddish shape, which disappeared as loud clanging sounds were made.

Hector froze as Isaac entered. He was suddenly totally unaware of Trevor's existence, of anything else, really. Isaac barely looked at either of them as he entered, and turned his back on them to shut and lock the door behind himself. This period of a few seconds stretched into eons for Hector, spent in pure dread, and the clawing feeling that he hadn't left the first dungeon at all.

The redhead was stone faced when he turned around, but something glinted in his eye when he gazed upon Hector, who simply stared back. Hector was sitting with this knees drawn as close to his body as was comfortable, head pressed against the stone wall behind him. His mouth was slightly agape and he was breathing heavily. If he looked especially fearful to Trevor, he didn't care, nor did he even care about trying to hide his fear from Isaac. There was no point, not after what they had been through.

And Isaac also seemed to forget Trevor's existence. He crossed the few paces from the door to Hector's side slowly, comfortably, as if this were like any normal day, and knelt to be at eye level with Hector. Hector tensed and let out of a soft groan when Isaac put his hand to his cheek. The physical contact seemed to wake Hector back up to reality, for now suddenly he was all too aware of Trevor's presence, and very concerned about how he must have looked. He fought the urge to close his eyes, lest that be mistaken for weakness, and stared hard at Isaac. He could not stop himself from trembling, nor from flinching when Isaac stood up sharply. He half wished Trevor would get a taste of the horror he had lived through not even a day ago, so he could understand Hector's fear.

Isaac studied them both for a moment, then went over to Trevor and crouched in front of him. He took his face in his hand and turned it this way and that, studying it like a piece of meat at market. His eyes were cold, hard, and his other hand was relaxed and hanging at his side. Hector took back his wish, hating himself a little more. He'd gladly risk appearing as a simpering coward to Trevor in exchange for sparing him from Isaac's games.

Sighing with apparent boredom, Isaac took a vial from somewhere on his belt and forced Trevor's mouth open with one hand. Trevor grunted and fought against him, managing to bite him. He stared up at Isaac like a wild animal, as the other regarded him coolly and removed his glove. Still eying Trevor, Isaac licked the blood from his hands and punched Trevor across the face with that same hand. He did it so quickly, Trevor was unable to brace for it. And while he panted in shocked pain, Isaac grabbed his face and forced the contents of his vial down his throat.

Immediately Trevor coughed and started to spit the blue fluid up. "Get rid of it if you wish, Belmont," Isaac said with a sneer, standing up. "I was merely told to give it to you. If you don't want to feel any better, that's your problem. But you will not be given anything else before I take you to Lord Dracula."

He gave his hand one more lick and replaced his glove, then kicked Trevor hard in the ribs. "Bite me again and I'll break your jaw," he said coolly.

Hector did not dare look at either of them as Isaac unshackled him. He left the cuffs on his wrists, and the heavy chain dragged on the floor behind him as Isaac lifted him roughly to his feet. Hector stumbled on rubbery legs, and had to be practically dragged out of the dungeon. Just for a second, he looked inside as Isaac was shutting the door. Trevor stared right back at him. He was slumped over, his hair a mess, mouth and chin caked with blood and remnants of the potion, but his eyes were piercing and hateful. Hector was unsure exactly whom that hatred was meant for.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6

Just for this chapter:

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Isaac/Hector, Dracula/Hector, Dracula/Isaac

Warnings: Non-con, violence, vampirism/blood play

It took several minutes for Hector to be able to walk unaided, and it felt good. In fact, combined with the walking earlier, this was the most exercise he'd had for a long time. It was like rediscovering his body, now that it wasn't constantly chained up. This tiny moment of bliss wasn't much of an escape, though. He could still feel Isaac gripping his arm and pulling him along.

Just as the man's presence was impossible to ignore. He had a freshly scrubbed smell, with a hint of a strange perfume. When they were stuck together in that dungeon near Cordova, they both suffered from lack of regular washing, Hector more so than Isaac. It seemed that the longer they stayed there, the more they both faded into their background, both becoming gray and cold and stale.

Hector thought about wrenching free and swinging the chains behind him to hit Isaac. He thought about this with such detail, he forgot to watch his step and stumbled, nearly taking Isaac down with him.

"Idiot," Isaac growled, pulling him back up with ease. But he stared at Hector a bit longer than necessary when they faced each other. Hector wasn't aware of what facial expression he had, as he just stared back numbly, but Isaac's brow furrowed and he seemed to be clenching his teeth. In a subdued voice, he threatened to drag him by the chains if he fell again.

Even though this was a different castle, Hector was still fairly sure where Dracula's throne room would be. The hallways were getting even gloomier, if that were possible, and there was a higher concentration of beasts and ruined men skulking around. He let his mind wander, easy to do, considering how numb and drained he felt. Perhaps if he were the Belmont, he thought to himself with a small grin, he'd risk a serious beating by trying to fight Isaac right there.

He thought about later that night he encountered Isaac in the courtyard in the rain. How different things had been, and yet some things did not change. He thought about how he'd treated Isaac the weeks after that incident, how things had shifted to his favor, and how he'd enjoyed it. Whatever physical pain Isaac delivered to Hector during that time was nothing compared to the emotional pain he must have suffered during this shift, and from how Hector rubbed salt in those growing wounds. What a tortured soul he must have been, Hector thought idly.

It didn't have to be that way...

"Stop dragging your feet!" Isaac snapped, wrenching Hector back to the present. He felt so clouded, his body drained of all feeling, his mind too depressed to really think. Even the fear he had for Isaac faded just from being used to his presence. And even though he knew he was being taken straight to Dracula, he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Thus, the sight of his old master did not shock him, it merely made him nauseous. Other feelings began to surface the closer he was brought, however, making it harder for Hector to keep up that look of indifference, the only form of rebellion he could muster.

A dark shame filled him as Isaac forced him to his knees, and he shot his gaze down. Dracula had taken him in when he was a young boy, after the superstitions and fears of his fellow man had led to the death of his mother and nearly the death of him. The world had always been so cold and difficult for Hector, but Dracula had provided him a haven to grow up in.

Hector did not feel love for this man, however, not anymore, and he told himself this to try to drive this pressing feeling of guilt away. He knew that his mind was torturing himself, that somehow Dracula's presence was making him think this way. Yes, he did betray him, an act that could have gotten Dracula killed. But Hector did not regret that, he knew he did the right thing. He knew how evil Dracula was, how consumed he was by his own senseless hatred and bitterness, how truly lonely and pitiful the vampire was, and how he cloaked himself with the suffering of others in order to feel anything at all.

But still he could not shake off that consuming shame, as if he had always been Dracula's adopted son, and he'd just let him down.

Leaning over his ornate and filigreed throne, Dracula lifted Hector's chin with one clawed finger and stared into his eyes. Hector gasped, feeling that stare like a physical thing driving itself into him, but he could not move, even though his thighs ached to support his body in this awkward position. He could feel his body begin to move, but wasn't sure if it was by his will or the vampire's. Just to test it, he pulled back. It was like swimming through thick waters, but Hector was able to resist Dracula's hypnotic lure.

But that really didn't matter, for soon he was once again moving towards his old master, and this time he didn't fight it. He was afraid to fight, but also afraid to give in.

He was standing in front of Dracula, stooping slightly, his arms straining from the shackles. Although there was a generous fireplace across the room, he shivered, teeth chattering from the cold exuding from Dracula's body.

Dracula snapped at Isaac, "Take this off," and sat back as his remaining general unlocked the shackles. Isaac was rough about it, and shoved Hector slightly forward when he unchained him. At a glare from Dracula, he also ripped Hector's clothing off. By now the rags were so rotten and ruined, they fell away from just a few good tugs.

Now that he was more acceptable, Dracula smiled and beckoned Hector closer. His eyes glowed and when he moved his lips, his fangs could just barely been seen, waiting patiently inside. Hector could not suppress a shudder, and hesitated, prompting Dracula to reach over and pull him into his lap. At Dracula's nudging, Hector sat on the man's lap, legs spread so that his knees rested on the seat. His hands were free, but he didn't know what to do with them.

Dracula took one of them gently and kissed the back of it. His lips were freezing cold and a grayish color, but had a softness to them. Then he pulled Hector closer by the captive hand and took hold of Hector's neck. With a slow, patient gentleness, he stroked the hair off Hector's neck to expose it, and Hector tensed and let out a strained, fearful moan.

Dracula guided Hector's hands around his back, between his back and cape, so that Hector could hold his ex-master in his arms, and feel the rich, brocaded fabric of his blouse, and the cold hardness of his body. Satisfied that Hector would keep his hands there, however stiffly, Dracula went back to stroking Hector's hair. One hand slowly dug into Hector's hair to grab a hold of it, and pulled his head to the side, while the other stroked the skin of his neck.

Dracula kissed Hector's neck in soft, small pecks. His incisors brushed against Hector's skin as he moved his mouth, and every time Hector jumped. He was hardly breathing during this, his fingers digging sharply into Dracula's back. The pain of a bite did not scare him, especially since an endorphin rush usually followed a vampire bite with such force the experience was often arousingly pleasant. Hector was far more afraid of losing self-control if Dracula bit him, for already he realized he was erect and beginning to rub his hands up and down Dracula's back.

His breath was like a cold wind, but in comparison to the rest of his body, it was a welcome warmth. His grip on Hector's hair was surprisingly strong; Hector could not budge as Dracula opened his mouth over his neck. His tongue, cold yet soothing, stroked across his throat, and now Hector could feel those enlarged canines streaking across the skin, just shy of breaking it. His hands slid off Dracula's back as he tried to prepare himself for the bite. Despite himself, he drew his attention to his cock; he was very gently gyrating his hips to induce sensation. It was hurting him more than pleasuring, but at least he could control it.

The points of the vampire's teeth touched on his now sweaty skin and pressed...

And then lifted. At the same time, Dracula cupped his hand between Hector's legs, not too gently, and pushed him back just a bit. Hector let out a pained whine and shut his eyes. He didn't realize how aroused he had been till he was touched, and now he was suffering from it, his body twitching with the need to rub against Dracula's hand. And actually, he would have done it if Dracula had not then taken his hand away, leaving Hector just inches from release, coated in a cold sweat, mouth hanging open like a dog.

Whatever sane part of him left eyed the tips of Dracula's canines, which glinted in the fire light as his lips stretched into a smirk, and tried to quiet his desire for them to sink inside him. He hated Dracula all the more, for surely the vampire was tricking him into feeling this way.

He growled with as much hateful conviction as he could build up, "I don't care what you do, I will never again be yours."

Dracula laughed, then yanked Hector's head back and snarled in his ear, "Who said I released you?"

Hector's eyes widened, and he clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears that had been building up from spilling. He could not feel anything but emptiness, and like his body was bled dry, even though Dracula had not bitten him. Turning to look at Dracula in the eye, his tears rushed forth, but he didn't care. He drew his hands from behind Dracula's back and grabbed the vampire's throat.

Dracula's eyes flashed, but other than that, he didn't seem to worry about this. He allowed Hector to squeeze for a moment before jerking Hector to the floor by the hair in one swift motion. The man lay in a crumpled, defeated heap, where he broke into a heavy sob.

Isaac came to him once Dracula signaled him with a flick of the hand, and hauled him up. "Clean him up, get him new clothes, and then let him cool his heels with the Belmont," he ordered in a bored voice, and then leaned back in his throne.

Isaac bent in a rushed bow as he held Hector tightly in his arms. "Yes, Master."

As he turned to leave, Dracula told him, "Come back here when you're finished. Don't make me wait."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Isaac pulled Hector down the hallways by the hair the entire way, and walked quickly, forcing the other to stumble and struggle to keep up. He shut off all thoughts until he got to his destination, because he was shivering with emotion as it was.

During that little performance in the throne room, the red head kept his eyes fixed to a corner of the room, keeping his master in sight, but not in focus. Only by thinking of how viciously he could pay Hector back for this, was Isaac able to tolerate being there. Isaac's jealousy was no secret to Dracula, but Isaac could not afford to reveal too much weakness. If he couldn't handle this, then what use was he as a general? Indeed, ever since that night, when he took off without telling anyone, he'd worked hard to control himself, or at least convince Dracula that he would never again let his emotions control him.

But now that they were far from Dracula, Isaac could behave as he wished. He intended to savor every moment, but at the same time, not take too long.

He took Hector to an outer courtyard, where there was a water trough usually for horses. Without warning he shoved Hector's head in it, then pushed the rest of it body in the murky, freezing water. With both arms elbow deep in the water, he fought against Hector, who fought for breath. He let him breathe just enough to survive, then ducked him again and again, then let him go to grab some branches from a nearby tree. It was nearly dead, like all the trees around, but it would serve.

While Hector was coughing and sputtering, hanging off the side of the trough, Isaac came over to him with the branch, and then started scrubbing his body with it, using the bark to scratch the dirt off. When Hector tried to fight him, Isaac slapped him and kept doing it. His captive put up a mean struggle, even getting Isaac completely soaked, so after about ten minutes of this, Isaac gave up and pulled Hector out.

Now that his job was completed, he rewarded himself by giving Hector a few swipes from the branch. Hector tried to hide his face in his arms, but the flesh of his back and legs soon became savagely striped. With tears in his eyes, Isaac then threw himself on the ground to kneel over Hector and lift his head by the throat. "Listen to me, Hector," he hissed, spitting from the effort. "You will never be accepted after what you did, never! He's fucking with you, you better understand that, and he'll kill you when he's tired of it."

Hector panted and spat filthy water for a moment before groaning, "Same with you."

Screaming with rage, tears streaming down his face, Isaac shoved Hector's face into the dirt and flogged his back until the branch broke. He had to physically stop himself from driving the sharp end of the branch through Hector's body, not willing to risk killing him before he could summon his innocent devil. So he threw the sticks away and lifted Hector to his knees and stood up.

"You'll suffer every last fucking second, Hector!" he bawled, forcing Hector's face into his crotch. He held Hector's head there for a moment, trying to calm himself before he really hurt him, then pulled his pants down. It didn't take much to force himself in Hector's mouth, and as soon as he did, he pumped in and out roughly, cursing at him the whole time. Hector's tongue brought him over the edge very soon, for he carried with him the desperate lust that began in that throne room. As much as he tried to avoid watching his beloved master and this cur together, the scene turned him on as much as it disturbed him.

He thought back to that scene, not really understanding what it was exactly that excited him so much, as he masturbated with Hector's mouth. He would not even let Hector breathe until he had fully emptied himself, and he warned Hector to swallow. Just like always, Hector did so, not missing a drop.

Isaac had to fight off the urge to collapse from exhaustion after coming. It was hardly satisfying, more like removing a painful thorn, while the pain remained to plague him. With anger and disgust, he forced Hector back up and into the castle, where he treated the worst of his injuries himself with a potion and made him drink a little bit. With some sleep, Hector would have a chance to heal properly, which meant a potential danger to him, of course. True, he did defeat Hector their first confrontation, but he was taking no chances. He made sure to lock Hector up nice and tight back in the dungeon.

Trevor was glaring at him the whole time, and didn't even look away when Isaac turned to glare right back at him. When he finished with Hector, who dropped off to sleep as soon as his head hit the floor, Isaac stood over Trevor menacingly. "Your time will come, Belmont," he snarled.

"What did you do to him?" Trevor had the audacity to demand, in a fearless, critical voice. His clothes were rags, his face smeared with dirt from the floor, and bruises dotted every bit of exposed skin, and yet there he was, challenging Isaac.

Isaac chuckled. "I didn't do anything," he sneered, bending over Trevor. His hand snaked to the brunette's throat, fitting snugly between his jaw and the top of the collar. Trevor only glared back even harder and lifted his chin in defiance. Leaning closer to Trevor's face, Isaac hissed, "I just watched your precious friend and our master get reacquainted."

"That fiend is your master alone," Trevor said.

Isaac's laugh grew in pitch and excitement, truly enjoying himself now. His fingers tightened, and his lips stretched back at the sound of Trevor's struggling breath. He just loved erasing the confidence from a man's face through violence. "Oh no, Belmont. He is but all of ours, whether you will admit it or not. You might take a bit of persuading, considering what you do for fun, but Hector? Ohhh you should have seen it, it was beautiful."

"Enough with your lies-"

"It's like he never left," Isaac prodded, his face getting closer and his fingers choking tighter. He rested his other hand on the wall by Trevor's head, and by now the Belmont was losing his heroic arrogance. He began to fight for breath, but tried to hide it. His brows were furrowing upwards, his bottom lip trembling as the air was slowly being cut off.

By now Isaac had closed Trevor's throat completely, and whispering right into his ear, "Lord Dracula is very persuasive, as you probably know. It was easy for him to find the love and loyalty that is still in Hector's heart and bring it out in full." He took a crunching bite of Trevor's earlobe and let go, standing as Trevor gasped in breath like a drowning man.

"I can only hope, for your sake, that he kills you soon. We do not need a third."

%%%%%%%%%%

The flames licked and cracked in the midst of the dark, cold room, providing barely enough warmth for Isaac's comfort. But he had no problem with the cold as long as it came from his master's body. Standing so far from it, he felt cold in an intangible way.

He was standing in the middle of the room, gazing at an empty chair, but he was not worried. He had come back as he was told, and figured he'd be made to wait. At a soft clicking sound at the other end, he turned to investigate, but then stopped at the touch of Dracula's hand at his shoulder. Suddenly his master was right next to him, and even though Isaac should be used to this by now, he still jumped and felt his heart race.

Dropping to one knee, his head bowed low, Isaac greeted his master and waited for an answer. He did not even look up as Dracula stood over him and began to talk. "I trust you can help Hector resume his place at my side?"

Isaac swallowed a lump in his throat. "Master?" He looked up just in time for Dracula to send a fierce look to him, then shot his eyes back down.

"He is valuable fighter, Isaac," Dracula said firmly. "He will never be what he was before, but I will still use him if I can. Can I rely on you for this?"

Isaac looked back up, held Dracula's gaze for a moment, then stood. "Of course you can, as you can for anything you ask for."

Dracula held Isaac's face in his hand, but his eyes were still cold, inspiring a twinge of fear in Isaac, even as he leaned into the caress. "No one can betray me with impunity, Isaac. But I have many years in which to act on my revenge. Will you have such patience?"

Relief flooded Isaac as he began to understand. Indeed, this was the closest he'd felt to his master. He was conspiring with him! Telling him his real intentions! He swelled with a joy he'd never imagined he could feel, and silently berated himself for having any doubt. Of course this was all part of a plot, he told himself. And of course he would be the one to join in it. Years of dedicated service had to count for something.

Consumed with this unbridled emotion, Isaac went to his knees yet again and took Dracula's hand in both of his. "Master," he said in a half whisper. "I will wait till my dying day, if that's what you wish of me, if you will only let me serve you." He then kissed the vampire's hand and held it a moment longer.

He did not see the curious smirk on his master's face, but he did rise when he felt Dracula gently tug at his arm. "This is why I am entrusting this with you," Dracula said as he gathered Isaac into his arms. Isaac practically melted, throwing his arms around Dracula and burying his head in the other's shoulder. He could have remained like that forever.

"I will not fail you, my Lord," he said dreamily, then pulled back to look Dracula in the eye. "I'll restore Hector to his former...glory," he said with a smirk that Dracula reciprocated with a knowing chuckle.

At this moment, Isaac felt taken by the urge to kiss his master, but he dared not make the first move. He wanted to feel those lips on his, to feel the warmth of his body flooding into the cold, eternal body of the vampire. A kiss would be the perfect finishing touch to this, but he was afraid to potentially anger Dracula and ruin it.

Dracula stroked Isaac's hair and regarded him a moment, before answering Isaac's unspoken plea. Overcome, Isaac drowned himself in that kiss. His eyes closed, his breath flowed into his master's body, and his arms wrapped around the other's body, beneath his heavy, flowing cape. With anyone else he would have probed his tongue with rude and impatient hunger, but he remained passive for Dracula, moving his lips and tongue only to complement his master's movements. Before he realized it, he was bent backwards, with Dracula leaning over him, as if feeding off him from the mouth.

Isaac was so bold as to delicately explore the inside of Dracula's mouth with his tongue, and he touched the tips of his wicked canines, shivering with excitement. The next time he did it, Dracula bit down on his tongue, unleashing a rush of blood to swirl from Isaac's mouth into Dracula's. Isaac's breath hitched in his throat and his eyes flew open at the shock and the rush of pain, but his whole body twitched and pulsed with lust.

When their mouths separated just enough for them to breathe, Isaac hissed, "Please...take me!"

Dracula silenced him with another kiss, then growled, "Is that what you want, Isaac?"

Isaac rubbed between his legs with one hand and held Dracula's waist with the other. Normally he wouldn't dare touch himself in front of his master without being told to, but he was too far gone by now, in a fugue of desire. "Please, Master, take me, rip into me!"

Dracula roughly grabbed both Isaac's hands with his own and forced them behind the red head's back. Holding both Isaac's wrist's together with one hand, Dracula took hold of that flame red hair and buried his face at the collar bone, nose brushing across the iron collar. There was enough flesh pregnant with blood bearing arteries peeking out when the neck was stretched by a tug of the hair. Dracula took a deep, rich sniff of his neck and hair, and brushed his face up the side of Isaac's cheek with his eyes closed and his lips parted.

"I can smell your blood," he whispered throatily, and Isaac answered with a desperate, lusty moan. "I can taste your richness through the skin, my Isaac, my only loyal servant."

Isaac breathed out a deep, guttural moan and pressed his lips on Dracula's face, as if trying to kiss him, and smeared his own blood across the pale, ashen skin of his master's cheek and into his ghostly white facial hair. "I am yours," he breathed.

"And I will rip into you," Dracula snarled, squeezing Isaac's body tight against his own. Isaac shuddered from that dark tone that usually was directed at hapless victims. But after learning of Dracula's true feelings, he would gladly offer himself as a victim. "I will shred your frail, human flesh, and I will remind you what it is to belong to me. Is that not what you want?"

"It is, Master!' Isaac pleaded. If he could slash open a vein for him right now to prove it, he would. Just the idea of feeling Dracula lick the blood from his wounded wrist inspired another deep shudder. He fingered his collar, aching for it to be removed, but would not without his master's permission. The scarred skin beneath the iron itched to be torn.

He could tell his master was in an advanced state of arousal, both for sex and for blood, and this terrified as much as satisfied him. If Dracula lost a modicum of control, he would tear the mortal apart. No one could make Isaac feel so vulnerable, so weak, and not altogether trusting. Every time he spoke with him one on one, it was a gamble with his life. But he craved it.

The vampire did not have a pulse or a heartbeat that Isaac could detect, but there was an eerie glow to him now, not like light, but a powerful aura. His eyes were sharp and alert, his fangs more prominent, and of course, he had an erection that was easily felt when Isaac pressed against his body. His fingers clawed deeply into Isaac's back, and he licked his bloodied fingers clean. They were two bodies, perhaps not both alive in the strictest sense, but both pulsing with a very live need that could only be fulfilled by each other.

Or so it seemed.

Just when it seemed the perfect time to surrender his throat, Dracula pushed him away and eased himself back to a calm state, as if none of that actually happened. Isaac was left rock hard and breathless, but he could not show any protest.

Partly to prolong Dracula's attentions, Isaac asked feebly, "Should the prisoners be separated, Master?" Even with everything else going on, he still had time to worry that Hector and Trevor might unify and try to escape.

Wiping his mouth clean with the back of a white hand, Dracula answered coolly, "You will begin training Hector tomorrow, but for now he and the other will stay together." He looked up with a small, sneaky look playing on his stained lips. "I know you fear they will be more of a threat together, but I trust you will not let them overcome you. And in the meantime, they will become close enough that the sudden prolonged absence of one will devastate the other." Dracula raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Does this sound plausible?"

Isaac couldn't properly appreciate this idea at the time, but he nodded anyway. "Yes, my Lord."

"Good. Now rest. I will summon you later," Dracula said in a silky voice.

Isaac mumbled something, bowed, and rushed out of the throne room in a daze. The memories of what happened mixed up with the ideas Dracula introduced to him, until his mind was a blur; the only way he could sleep that day was to clear his mind by mercilessly biting his wounded tongue. The pain gave him peace, because it came from...him.


	7. Chapter 7

Ch. 7

Isaac slept during the day, as his master did, but unlike his master, he awoke before the sun's dangerous rays faded. He rarely enjoyed a full day's sleep, since his invulnerability to sunlight enabled him to take care of things for Dracula during the day. Today was no exception. After a few hours' nap, he awoke his prisoners, who glared up at him with caution, but otherwise looked exhausted.

When Hector awoke, just an hour before Isaac came for him, he looked over to Trevor, who was already awake and glaring at him with fierce hostility. This came like a blow to him, for how could he survive without an ally? He struggled to sit up and snapped, "What is it?"

Leaning against the wall, his legs straight ahead of him, Trevor just glared for a few minutes longer. His body looked totally drained, but there was a dark energy keeping him alert, powering the look in his eyes, which looked bloodshot and tired by consequence. Finally, when he spoke, his voice was scratchy and flat. "You still belong to him."

Hector narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I knew not to trust you from the very beginning," Trevor hissed, looking hard into Hector's eyes, causing Hector to burn inside with imagined guilt. The way Trevor shook his head and glared made him feel sick to his stomach, and just as angry at Trevor right back.

With a hard edge to his voice, Hector replied, "Isaac told you something, didn't he? You should know not to listen to him."

"Don't you take me for a fool, Hector!" Trevor snapped, those eyes lighting up, while the rest of his body sagged from the effort. "Of course he's a vile thing, but why would he suggest that you and your beloved lord are still close? That must be based on something! What were you doing all that time?"

Hector bit his lip and looked down, feeling a mix of anger and relief. Of course it would be hard to convince Trevor that he was not in league with Dracula anymore, but at least that was the truth. "Nothing that was my own choice, Trevor. I was brought before Dracula, that is true." He looked up at him and was gratified to see a bit of that hardness fade from Trevor's face, still with a stubborn frown, though. Or perhaps Trevor was just falling asleep. "I was forced to..." he shook his head. "He thinks that he can force me to work for him again, but I assure you that will never happen. He will have to kill me first."

Trevor looked away, the chains on his collar making a disheartening clinking. "I don't think that will be enough, Hector," he said softly.

Hector would have said something, but was interrupted by that terrible sound of the locks being unlocked. He drew his knees in, unconsciously bracing himself for Isaac, who appeared in a bit of a better mood this time. There was no warmth to his grin, and especially not in his hands and he undid Hector's shackles and tugged him along. Hector threw a desperate look to Trevor as he was led out, and Trevor just hung his head, looking just as pitiful as Hector felt.

Hector had been plagued by dreams about Isaac during his brief rest, and he looked at Isaac now with confusing emotions. When they had served Dracula together, Hector had seen his companion as many things, but a fellow man was one of them. But now, after his imprisonment to him, Isaac seemed inhuman, larger than life. He wondered idly if Isaac would bleed if pricked.

There was so much hatred in his heart for this man now leading him into a closed off courtyard, guarded by slogras in the shadows, but those feelings were unfocused and confused. He was still getting used to not being in that first dungeon anymore, and would not have been at all surprised if Isaac led him to a small room to resume the torture. Not knowing what would happen next was torture enough.

But here he was totally unbound. His wrist shackles were tossed into the grass, and Hector was left facing Isaac, unfettered, and unsure what to do. Isaac even turned his back on him to take a pair of weapons from a slogra, who glowered at Hector the whole time. He then tossed a sword to Hector, who managed to catch it by reflex alone, as he was not following what was happening. The sight of Isaac armed with his spear was a very disturbing one. If they were about to battle, Hector was sure that he had lost already.

"What is this?" he said, clutching the sword so hard it hurt his hands. It did feel pretty good to hold a sword in his hands again, even if he didn't believe he had the strength to weld this.

"You," Isaac declared, sweeping a gloved hand over the intricate patterns etched into the spear head. "Are in desperate need of some training. Master wishes you to be battle ready, and soon."

"Then you're wasting your time," Hector said, dropping the sword. "I will never fight for him again."

Isaac smirked and gave an airy, indulgent chuckle. "Then you'll fight for yourself. You see, we're not leaving here until I am satisfied you've made progress, or you've dropped dead. Now," he straightened, pounding the base of his spear into the ground. "Do you really want to leave your darling Belmont friend all alone?"

Hector's chest heaved as he stared at Isaac, lips tightly pursed. He began to feel resentment for Trevor now; he did not ask the Belmont to try to rescue him. A part of him, the selfish, old part that had once been at home at Dracula's court, told him to forget about Trevor and take this chance to die and escape the torment at last. Ever since Rosalee's murder, Hector felt that he had been keeping himself awake, unable to surrender himself to a desperately needed slumber. Just closing his eyes and dreaming wasn't enough; he wanted to succumb to the darkness and never again wake up. Even a slow death at Isaac's hands sounded preferable to that selfish part of him.

But he was no longer that man. If he were, he never would have left Dracula's side. This was just one of many instances in his life where he had to prove to himself that his character was not defined by Dracula and the evil he represented. And if that meant denying himself a chance at peace in order to protect Trevor, then so be it.

So he picked up the sword and bent in a ready position. Isaac laughed with approval and immediately attacked, swinging his spear just over Hector's head. Hector dodged, nearly tripping over himself, and swung at Isaac. The sword was a dead weight in his hands, though, and it took great effort to even swing it. As the fight went on, Hector began to feel more confident as he relearned his skills, but his body was also weakening fast. What frustrated him more, though, was the fact that Isaac wasn't fighting to his full potential. Once again, he was just playing with him.

"Hold!" Isaac commanded, taking a step back. Hector was tempted to charge at him anyway, but spotted one of the slogra sentries eying him. Obviously no matter how well Hector fought, this battle would always be under Isaac's control. Just imagining taking the chance to kill Isaac and all the slogras right now, alone, made him so dizzy he had to stop and hold his head. Isaac walked up to him and took his sword without the slightest hesitation. His lack of fear of Hector was disheartening.

Isaac went back to a shadowed part and came back with a vial. When Hector reached out to take it, Isaac drew it back and waved his finger in mock disapproval, then ordered him to open his mouth. Hector seethed, but obeyed, knowing that any hesitation was not only a waste of time, but would inspire an act of violence from Isaac.

The fluid burned all the way down, causing him to choke. But soon after swallowing the last bit, Hector felt his breath steal away from him, and his muscles clench. After a few seconds of what felt like a heart attack, Hector calmed down just enough to glare at Isaac.

His rival laughed, "That oughta perk you up a bit." He held the sword to Hector.

Indeed, he was beginning to feel more energetic, so he snatched his sword, drew it over his head, and charged at Isaac, who was already ready for him. Hector did not believe he had a chance, but he still fought as if he did. That potion wasn't a miracle cure; he still felt fatigue deep in his bones, and he felt every wound and scratch Isaac's spear gave him in passing, but his body was able to last longer. More able to give Isaac the show he wanted, apparently.

Several times he tried to stab Isaac, but was blocked, and the one time he managed to shove Isaac to the ground, the slogras watching from the side lines gave him warning looks. But no matter how hard he fought, he was nowhere near Isaac's level, mostly because he felt this was a waste of time from the start.

And thinking about how Trevor would have made the most of this situation didn't help, either.

Isaac stopped everything once again after they had been at it for what felt like hours. Hector was awash with sweat and could hardly stand up straight, while Isaac was merely breathing a little harder. With the slogras' help, he collected the weapons and led him to another part of the courtyard, where some food had been laid out. Amazingly, Isaac broke off a piece of bread and gave it to Hector, before eating some himself. And he did it so casually, Hector had to remind himself of what the situation was.

Still, the apparent friendliness, or at least the pause in the abuse got to Hector, and he stared at his bread.

"You better eat that," Isaac growled. "And anything else I give you." He took it and was about to force it in Hector's mouth, but Hector's vacant stare made him stop and inspect him.

Hector had tears rolling down his face by the time he faced Isaac, finally able to make some sense of his troubled thoughts. "It doesn't have to be this way," he said in a strained whisper.

Isaac frowned. "That's all I ever get out of you, complaints."

"I have hated you for so long, Isaac!" Hector said, but lowered his voice. He could never be sure if slogras liked to listen in on human conversations, or if they could even understand anything more than simple commands, but he wasn't taking any chances. The beasts did not seem to be listening. "You can't know the hate I have for you, how badly I've wanted to..."

Isaac rolled his eyes and took a ripping bite from a piece of meat. "I've done nothing that you don't deserve, Hector. You can only blame yourself-"

"I don't want to hate you anymore," Hector said, and even as he said that, he was overcome with emotion. He put his hands on Isaac's thigh, slightly squeezing, but it kept him from throttling Isaac's throat. But he knew he didn't have the heart to try to strangle Isaac, not right now, at least. Something more than fear of retaliation was stopping him. "I don't know if I ever can, but I want to forgive you, for everything."

Some kind of raw emotion flashed on Isaac's face at this. It wasn't the usual anger or self-important smirk. It was something else, and it made Isaac look smaller than usual, younger. But a second later his face grew hard once again. "Then you're a bigger fool that I thought. Eat your fucking-"

Hector leaned in closer. "I don't know how, or by how much, but I know Dracula is doing something to you. I know how...persuasive he is. I almost forgot just how strong his influence is until you brought me to him." Here he looked down, his fingers tight on Isaac's leg, as if clinging to him for dear life. It felt that he was clinging to any thoughts that made sense in his head. "I would have done anything for him, just to keep that feeling going. I know this is what drives you, but it's all a lie!"

Isaac rose to his feet, enraged. "You have no right to talk about him, Hector!" he shouted. "What would you know, you who ran like a fucking coward from him? You, who would still sit there and plot against him, to me of all people!" He grabbed Hector by the collar of his newly made, but simple, tunic and shook. "How dare you try to plant doubt in my mind, Hector! I don't care what you think, he loves me and trusts me more than anything!"

Hector gave him a hard look. "If he loves you so much, why is he using me to torture you? Why would he need me at all if he has you?"

Isaac shoved him away. "Shut up! You couldn't possibly understand-"

"Unless he were trying to replace you!" Hector yelled from the ground, and he flinched when Isaac turned to look at him. Expecting a kick any second now, Hector covered his head with this arms, but still kept talking. "He has always favored me, Isaac, you know that! If you're not good enough to replace me after I left, then you're not good enough for him now, he's using you!"

Hector peeked out when the kick didn't come. Isaac had his back to him, shoulders heaving. Carefully, and wincing at his bruises, Hector crept to his knees, wishing he could see Isaac's face, wishing he could touch him. A part of him delighted in seeing Isaac in such pain, but he didn't feel bad for that. He could not be sure he could ever truly forgive Isaac for the things he had done, no matter how much he wanted to let the hatred go.

"I loved you once, Isaac," he said softly. "You were all I had, all that mattered to me, even if you did take things too far. I know this isn't who you really are. You can't be."

He waited, but Isaac still didn't move or speak. Hector stood up very slowly and took a few steps forward. His heart raced, as if he were approaching a snake about to strike, but he knew he had to do this. "I'm never going back to him, Isaac. I'm freeing myself from that. And..." he carefully put a hand on Isaac's back. "I want you to come with me."

Isaac grabbed Hector's hand and twisted him around, forcing Hector's back against his torso. He held Hector's wrist at his side, and at a painful, awkward angle that would have caused the bone to break if any more pressure was put on it. Hector froze, afraid, but not exactly surprised by this reaction. "Isaac, please!" he hissed. "How long are you going to wait, before it's too late? He doesn't—ahhh!-he doesn't love you, you're nothing to him!" Isaac pulled his wrist harder and harder. Any second now, and it would break.

Isaac wrapped his other arm around Hector's waist and hissed his ear, "You've been trying to steal him away from the very beginning, you piece of shit!"

"No! I hate him, Isaac!"

"You really think you can lure me away? You think I'm that stupid?" Isaac screamed. "I should tear you to pieces right now!"

"Dracula would be furious if you did," Hector panted. "You know he would, and he would kill you for it, you know it! If you hated me so much, why haven't you killed me? You're afraid, that's why! You're afraid what will happen to you if you take away the one thing that Dracula truly-" He stopped talking to scream, for Isaac had snapped his wrist. The redhead held onto him tightly, pulling him against himself, for a few minutes, just listening to Hector's panicked moans.

Then he nuzzled Hector's neck and kissed him. The pain in his wrist was fierce, but Hector could still feel the tenderness in Isaac's kiss, and of how he rubbed his face against his own. He tried to nuzzle Isaac back, daring to hope that he might have gotten through to him, but then he was thrown the ground.

Looking up, cradling his wrist, Hector could see tears in Isaac's eyes and a tormented look on his face. Without a word, Isaac knelt down to him and kissed him on the mouth, roughly. He allowed Hector to run his uninjured hand through his hair, and pulled at Hector's clothes. Even though Isaac was on top and held all the power, Hector had the feeling that it was he who was comforting Isaac in this. He was the one who was directing this, and he hadn't felt so alive in months.

Soon Isaac was inside Hector, pumping vigorously and roughly. Hector moaned with every thrust, taken aback by the pleasure. He threw his head back, while Isaac kissed and took gentle bites from his throat and ran his hands over his chest. Hector's injured hand lay uselessly on the grass, but the other gripped Isaac's hair, nearly pulling it out. He tugged in time with Isaac's thrusts, but Isaac did not seem to care.

He also didn't care when Hector let go of his hair to stroke himself. He was spread wide for Isaac, fully giving himself. He did not have the mental capacity right at that moment to worry about what would happen directly after this; all he could focus on was how good it felt, how even the pain and roughness added to his lust for Isaac, and he could tell that Isaac felt the same way. They both kissed and scratched and bit each other, both giving and receiving pain or pleasure, whatever their mood dictated. Just like the old days.

Only when they each were so selfish and self serving could they enjoy each other so much.

As if they shared one heart beat, they came at the same time, both bodies spasming and convulsing, pressed tightly together, both of them panting into each other's mouths. Isaac lay on Hector for a while, without even bothering to pull out, while Hector stroked Isaac's hair, now slick from sweat.

Hector's heart was still filled with a great amount of rage and bitterness, but he realized there was room for other things as well. He did not dare to hope for anything yet, but if Isaac would only make the effort to change for him, then he would be willing to do anything for him in return.

Isaac propped himself up and looked down at Hector with a tired, hard gaze, his eyes red and puffy. He stared for a long time, and Hector met his gaze, hardly breathing. Finally, he said flatly, "This hasn't changed anything, traitor."

Hector looked away and let the tears spill out from him, overtaken by a depression even bleaker than he could imagine. He hardly felt Isaac lift him to his feet and lead him out of the courtyard, and didn't even bother to stop from crying against him. A million things he could say raced through his head, but he knew none of them would work. He couldn't even think of anything worth staying alive for, worth fighting for, not that Isaac would allow him the release of death anyway.

Back at the dungeon he was shackled, but this time Isaac bound his hands in front of his body, so that he could pick up the food Isaac left next to him on the floor. He also left a goat skin full of water.

Finished with Hector, Isaac turned to Trevor, who was barely conscious himself. He untied the Belmont and dragged him out without another word or look to Hector.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: My apologies for taking so long with this, guys. Between writer's block and school, it's been a struggle. Thank you for your patience and support, and I hope you enjoy this next installment!

Ch. 8

Isaac was glad, very glad, for the sweet distraction Trevor would provide. He had to make himself wait till he got the man to his destination so he could enjoy himself with him. As much as he tried to focus on that promise of fun, however, his mind tormented him with Hector's words. It was ridiculous, outrageous, the idea of him running off with Hector. The idea made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He thought about telling his master, but then decided against that. It seemed too dangerous; Dracula would surely ask him if he planned to join Hector in this foolhardy rebellion. Isaac would of course say no, and mean it, but it chilled him to think about having to defend himself to Dracula, who was so talented at drawing out any deception or doubts with just a look.

Because Isaac did have doubts. Very small, very transient and confusing, but they were there, and the more he allowed himself to so much as think about Hector, the more danger he posed himself. Leave Dracula? Preposterous. Isaac loved the bitter old vampire. He acknowledged his faults, of course only secretly and seldom, but he forgave each one. Yes, it was frustrating to have to compete with Hector for all those years, and even now, after proving his worth by staying by his side and agreeing to retrain the traitor just for him, Dracula still would not fully embrace him. But Isaac knew that he just had to work harder to deserve it. Besides, how long had Isaac lived with Dracula? Ten years, fifteen? Isaac's entire lifespan would be but a wink of time for the vampire, so his many years of service didn't mean much by themselves. He really was expecting too much too soon.

He thought about all the evidence he had that he was in fact quite valued by his lord. He was still alive, that was pretty major. Plus, Dracula fed from him occasionally. He didn't have to, and he never took that much, but Isaac knew it was a symbolic ritual, far more intimate and joining than sex could ever be.

And Isaac reminded himself that perhaps if he were a good and loyal servant, that before long Dracula would bestow upon him the ultimate honor of making him a fledgling. This put a smile on his face and let him cross the hallways in a bit of peace. Trevor started to stir just as he was dragging him inside the room. A few slogras came in with them, as a safety measure, as already the Belmont was proving his potential difficulty.

Even before he could stand fully on his own, Trevor was trying to fight. Since he was completely unshackled, he tried punching Isaac, who simply moved his head and grabbed Trevor's arms. So then he tried to kick, tried to bite, but Isaac kneed him in the groin, putting him out of commission long enough to force him over to a filled bath tub made of polished metal.

Isaac then started to undress Trevor, but just got his vest off when Trevor attacked again. This time he managed to take Isaac by surprise; his punch was more of a shove, but it worked. Isaac's face knocked onto the metal lip of the tub as he fell. Blood streamed from a busted out tooth and a bitten tongue, while a slogra took hold of Trevor from behind, his claws not overly gentle.

Chuckling, Isaac got up and wiped his face. His jaw throbbed, and he winced if he moved his head too abruptly, but he was never that afraid of pain. In fact he went up to Trevor to grin at him and yank the loose tooth all the way out. It clacked when it hit the floor behind him, and fresh blood poured down his chin to splat on the floor at his feet.

Trevor was shivering by now, an excellent sign. It helped that the slogra was holding his hands behind his back and hissing down at him, as if in a constant threat. Trevor grunted and writhed in hopeless fury, but otherwise could not stop Isaac from pulling off the rest of his clothes. Isaac stood back to admire him. His eyes took it in like a feast, and he grazed his fingers along Trevor's skin.

Trevor recoiled as much as he had room to and grimaced. The closer Isaac's fingers snaked to his crotch, the tighter and tenser Trevor became. Smiling coyly at his prisoner, Isaac hovered his hand over Trevor's cock, savoring his sweet distress, then touched the great scar at his chest instead. Trevor's jaw relaxed, but still he shuddered at the touch.

"Who gave these to you?" Isaac asked, though he had a pretty good idea. He already found the scars to be beautiful additions to an already beautiful body, but they were especially erotic to him, considering the source. Imagining his master injuring this man like that, Isaac drove his tongue in the bloody hole where his tooth once was in sudden lust.

Trevor did not answer, not that Isaac expected him to. Isaac just laughed softly and followed the scar from the chest, and detoured to brush his fingers over the nipple the scar just missed. Isaac noted how firm it was, and how Trevor gasped loudly, then followed the scar down the torso, ending just at the right hip.

Trevor pressed against the slogra and turned his head violently when Isaac tried to touch the scar on his face, so Isaac simply grabbed it still with his other hand and took his time letting his finger crawl from the forehead down Trevor's closed eye, then down his cheek, past the lips that trembled from harsh curses.

His hand brushed through Trevor's hair, so long and thick, but knotted and limp, in dire need of a good wash. Just like the rest of him. Just looking into those baleful, reddening eyes tempted Isaac to kiss him, but he made himself wait till after the bath.

Snapping his fingers at another slogra, Isaac turned and waited for Trevor to be brought to the tub. Trevor seemed to be waiting for the slogra to let go of him, but Isaac grabbed him before he left the slogra's claws. He struggled with Trevor before dunking his head in the water. With a firm grip on Trevor's head, Isaac got in with him so he could hold Trevor down with both hands.

He pulled Trevor back up by the hair and let him sputter a few breaths before dunking him again, longer this time. When he lifted him again, he barked in Trevor's ear, "I see you're a fighter, and I like that. But let's be realistic. You're weak, wet, and naked. What are you really going to do?"

"Strip down and we'll be equal," Trevor snarled.

Isaac was taken aback by Trevor's boldness, but it also delighted him. Not that he could show any approval, of course. Even as he laughed inwardly, he punished Trevor's insolence with another dunk, even longer this time. He allowed himself a vicious, toothy grin as Trevor reached up to claw at his arms in a desperate attempt to free himself. Isaac's blood mixed into the water by the time Isaac pulled the weakened Trevor from it again.

With soap from a slogra, Isaac scrubbed Trevor down, gripping him tight by the hair. Trevor was wheezing and coughing, unable to fight with such vigor as Isaac cleaned his entire body. He scowled and tried to close his legs tightly when Isaac washed between them, but Isaac merely forced them apart by reaching down with both hands, his face pressed against Trevor's.

Then, in order to control Trevor (how tiring it was to constantly fight to subdue this man!), Isaac held him by the throat with one hand, so he could rub his other hand down Trevor's belly and then to cup his genitals. Trevor growled as he rubbed up and down. Isaac would tighten his grip on Trevor's throat if he struggled too much, and indeed, Trevor had to choke a few times before he figured it out.

Isaac could feel the muscles of Trevor's body as tensely coiled as a spring from the effort to resist fighting back. He was hissing vile insults as soon as he was allowed to breathe, but otherwise didn't resist as Isaac fondled him. Trevor was still soft, but Isaac kept at it. Trevor's breaths began to hiss out in rhythm with Isaac's strokes, and he was starting to get hard. Isaac could tell that Trevor was trying to resist that as much as he could, and he chuckled at his expense.

"Better get used to this," Isaac cooed, pressing his face against Trevor's hair. He moved his face down, so his nose could brush down Trevor's throat, and he knelt in the tub so he could be more comfortable. Soon he was kneeling with Trevor pressed up against his body.

But Isaac's mind soon wandered. Even as he fixed his gaze on his captive's dark brown hair, he imagined a head of silver instead. This man he held in his forceful grip was certainly beautiful, and would certainly be a fun toy, but it wasn't enough.

Just as a bitter feeling began to take hold, he chased it away and thought about his physical needs instead. Whoever it was or wasn't, there was a man, naked and vulnerable, sitting practically in his lap, and already growing hard from his touch. Trevor could have been a stranger for all it really mattered, why not enjoy him as one?

Shifting just a little bit to slip his pants further down his thighs to expose himself, Isaac pulled Trevor closer, making him sit on his erection. He gripped Trevor hard to warn him to case his struggling, and sighed at the feeling of his sensitive, twitching cock slide between Trevor's crack. With one arm wrapped around Trevor's chest, holding his arms still, Isaac slithered his other hand between his crotch and Trevor's ass, sneaking two fingers though the hole.

He felt Trevor close around his fingers, even tighter than the rest of his body, which tensed in furious panic. There was incredible resistance when Isaac tried to push his fingers in further.

"I'm warning you," Trevor hissed, his voice much darker and confident than anyone in his position had any right to be. "Don't even think it."

"Are you afraid of getting fucked, Belmont?" Isaac growled close in his ear. He pushed his fingers in farther and stretched the opening gently. As Trevor whined involuntary, Isaac panted. He could rape Trevor at any second, but this merciless teasing as a sweet torture for him, not to mention what it must have been doing to Trevor.

"I am not your woman, you wretch," Trevor said, gnashing his teeth. He could not drive Isaac's fingers out, but he tightened himself out of useless spite. "Nor your slave. You will not violate me."

Isaac let out a chuckle, incredulous, then he laughed, throwing his head back, fully enjoying himself, with his fingers still jammed inside Trevor.

And just as abruptly he snapped Trevor's head back and forced himself inside. He growled just as loudly as Trevor, both of them in pain from the assault. Also, Trevor was thrashing and struggling so hard he was jerking Isaac's dick around in a horribly rough manner. Isaac wanted it out just as badly as Trevor, but he overcame his pain in order to prolong Trevor's. All he had to do was get a good grip on him, but it was difficult. Trevor wrenched his arms free and knocked his elbow into Isaac's face, buying himself the chance to pull himself free. He kicked Isaac as he tumbled out of the tub, and lucky for him, Isaac slipped when he got out.

A slogra did manage to grab Trevor before he could get anywhere, but Trevor did succeed in busting Isaac's lip and spotting his face, chest, and arms, with bruises, plus the skin beneath his armor bits was chafed raw.

The slogra did Isaac the favor of whacking Trevor in the gut with his staff, rendering him helpless with pain on his knees when Isaac got to him. Isaac kicked him in the ribs and paused to catch his breath.

"If I had the luxury of time, I'd string you up and let these monsters tear into you till you're half dead, but we have to get going. Now, if you would be so kind, dear sir, get the fuck up so I can wash your hair and get out of here."

"Curse you to Hell..." Trevor croaked as Isaac lifted him. Isaac took little joy in this quick chore. Trevor's resistance only angered him because of how hard it made him. The fight was a delicious thrill, there was nothing like pitting his strength against someone who had everything to lose if defeated, and especially with the reward of utterly humiliating and dehumanizing the loser with violent rape. Now Isaac would have to wait for release. With a slogra's help he dried Trevor, combed his hair, and wrapped a towel around his waist because his clothes were filthy tatters, and then led him out.

A depression as dark as the corridors wrapped around him the closer they got to the throne room. Isaac knew better than to expect any affection from his master once he brought in his new toy. It was understandable; what better fun than to torture someone arrogant enough to think he could kill Dracula? But while Dracula pleased himself with Trevor and Hector, Isaac would be forgotten like trash, but expected to spring back to his master's side when summoned as obedient and selfless as the lowest dog.

There were times, not just when Hector had suggested it, when Isaac wondered what it really was that kept him doing this. Even the idea of being rewarded with immortality seemed like a silly fantasy, unlikely to ever come true. Dracula had never made any hint that he planned that, anyway.

Hector was the only one who had shown him love, he mused. Even now, even after all he had done, Hector was still willing to love him. It was hard to tell if what Hector was saying was true, or just a trick, but Isaac had never fully trusted Hector anyway. He could tell how his master favored the older man, and he never believed it when Hector claimed he did not desire Dracula's affection, so why should he believe him now? What if things went right back the way they were, with Hector placed on a pedestal Isaac could never hope to reach? Isaac was walking so slowly just thinking about this, unsure if he even wanted to face Dracula.

But as difficult as it was to face these nagging doubts, it was impossible for him to directly disobey his master. So, forcing himself to remember his duty, Isaac took a rough hold of Trevor's arm and forced him inside the great, candle-lit room, where his vampire master waited.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A long time ago, back in the days they were together, and Hector's life was somewhat simple, he and Isaac had had a fight. He couldn't remember what it was about, most likely nothing, but it left Isaac fuming at him for days. Only when Hector made the first move, did they finally reconcile.

Hector had gone out of his way to find where Isaac was holing himself up, which room in the giant castle he was sulking in. Isaac sat on his bed and threw an evil glare at the intruder, but did not move when Hector sank to his knees and wriggled between his boots. With a soft smile up at Isaac, Hector slipped his hands in Isaac's pants and pulled out his cock. Then he wrapped his lips around it and didn't stop until he could feel hot semen dribble down his chin and Isaac's fingers gripping his hair so hard it hurt.

Hector could remember very clearly how that tasted and felt, and how it felt inside. He knew with that act, he had won Isaac's version of friendship, while it lasted. And if they had another falling out, then that would be the simple solution. He remembered how he had allowed that realization to empower him. Even though he was the one on his knees, performing this servile act, he was the one in control, forcing Isaac to surrender his anger. He remembered thinking to himself that in truth he owned Isaac just as surely as Dracula did.

And then he groaned as his mind tormented him with a different memory. It was also one of sucking Isaac off, but this time he really the one being controlled. This was back, not too long ago, when he was Isaac's prisoner. That dark time wasn't that long ago, but the memories faded into each other, like a very long nightmare, where he couldn't be sure exactly what happened and how long it took.

But he could remember quite well the same taste, the same fingers in his hair, but a very different feeling in his heart. His body was wracked with pain and hunger, fresh tears trickling down cheeks damp with sweat. Blood from his own mouth mixed with Isaac's taste, but he dared not gag. He had never felt so low and so dead inside. He knew that at any moment his captor could end this sorry waste of a life, and would not feel any sadness over it. Any love that Hector might have earned from Isaac in the past was dead.

Hector tried to think of anything else, so he studied the cracks in the wall opposite him. A few times when he had awakened in that foul place, with the shell of what was once a friend torturing him with such hatred, Hector truly believed that he was in Hell. Even his current situation, a prisoner of Dracula, was better than being in that dungeon, but it was still too horrible to think about.

He could tell that Isaac's spirits were lifted since being reunited with his master, but that didn't make him any less dangerous. Isaac's attentions were diverted for the time being, but at any time Dracula could turn him loose on Hector. There really was no telling what would happen; the desires of one man meant nothing to Dracula, Hector realized.

So then what of Trevor? He had no idea how much time had passed, but it was far too long for him. He hadn't been around Trevor long enough to really care about him, but the thought of suddenly losing him was like a stab in the heart. He just could not do this alone.

He kept glancing at the window on the door, anxious for Isaac to return, for not only was he hoping to see Trevor again, but he held onto the slim hope that he would see that flash of tenderness in Isaac's eyes once again.


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 9

Isaac hung back and watched the two. He watched with disdain as the Belmont staggered over to Dracula, struggling to keep his towel up. Dracula turned to look at him and invited him closer as he would an old friend. His smile would have seemed friendly and warm if not for the fangs glistening from the fire light, and his putting his hand on Trevor's shoulder would have seemed a natural gesture, if not for how violently Trevor shuddered.

Isaac remained close enough to hear and see everything, but sadly Dracula turned Trevor and himself away so that Isaac could not see their faces. Still he watched everything with a close eye, burning with a fresh hatred that yet another man was so close to his master.

Dracula slowly led Trevor closer to the fire, his hand delicately placed on his back, and Isaac discreetly followed. He was impatient for Dracula to begin punishing him, and was confused by his apparent kindness. But he assumed that his master was only pretending to be easy going, so as to hurt him more in the future.

Dracula made empty apologies for the state of Trevor's clothes and living arrangements, and promised that they would be improved, but he made no indication of what he wanted in return. As he idly talked about nothing in particular, Isaac watched Trevor carefully. The Belmont was standing close to Dracula, but he was very tense, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. He flinched whenever Dracula moved or appeared to get closer, and when Dracula put a hand on his shoulder, Trevor was visibly recoiling. Isaac could just see the grimace on his face.

This appeased Isaac. Obviously Dracula was just playing with him, delighting in his suffering, like a cat with a mouse. There was no rush to kill Trevor yet, Isaac told himself. And for now, he could provide amusement for them both.

He did not like to see his lord lead Trevor towards his throne, however. Dracula gestured to the floor, where Trevor reluctantly sat, and indeed, Dracula rather roughly pushed him to a sitting position. Isaac was burning with anxiety, imagining that at any moment Trevor would try to attack. He certainly had that look in his eye.

He was so busy studying Trevor, that he didn't hear his master calling for him the first time. The second time, Dracula's voice was just as even, but Isaac's heart pounded in fear. Never had he ignored a command before. As he was ordered, he went to the back of the room to retrieve a wine glass and a hunk of meat wrapped up in cloth. The smell of the food instantly reminded him of how hungry he was himself, but he ignored his own needs to deliver the goods to Dracula.

Dracula's eyes were hard, as if he did not forgive Isaac for not listening to him earlier, and his smile was as cold as his gray skin. He took the meat, making Isaac hold onto the glass, and handed it down to Trevor.

"You needn't worry," he told Trevor, who held the food, steaming with a delightful smell, with suspicion. "You may be correct in much of what you think of me, but I promise I am a good host. No human guest will hunger in my castle."

Isaac could recognize that look of defiance in Trevor's eyes, that desire to hurt himself just to prove a point, but once he unwrapped the parcel, hunger overcame his pride, and he gulped the entire thing down in no time. If his teeth were any stronger, Isaac imagined, he'd devour the bones, too.

When Dracula turned to gaze at Isaac, the redhead felt his heart leap to his throat. Dracula had such a way of piercing his eyes, like arrows. His skin was deathly pale, but his eyes lived with the never ending fierceness of his soul. Isaac felt his knees weaken, but he held himself steady; his master had never looked so beautiful, and so powerful. Even though he had a man at his feet, Dracula looked at Isaac as if only the redhead existed in the entire world.

He handed his master the glass, neither one taking his eyes off the other, and he knelt when Dracula guided him to the floor with a hand on his shoulder. He could tell now that Trevor was watching him, but he didn't care how he looked. He did not mind appearing servile to Dracula, but in fact felt pride for it. Trevor may be subjugated by force, but Isaac submitted willingly. All those doubts that plagued his mind just a few minutes ago fled to the back of his mind. All that mattered now was the approval of obeying his lord.

Dracula rewarded him with a small smile and took hold of one of his hands. He slipped the glove off and pressed his lips to the hollow of Isaac's wrist. Isaac's chest heaved and he uttered a small whine at the wonderful, cold feeling. He gasped when Dracula wet his wrist with his tongue, which was like ice water, and was frozen as Dracula scratched a wound into his wrist with a long, jagged fingernail.

The cut was so deep, and in just the right place, that blood flowed easily into the glass Dracula held beneath Isaac's wrist, and immediately Isaac felt faint and had to grip the side of the throne with his other hand. He panted and felt his vision grow fuzzy and the rest of his body grow numb. How he managed to stay still enough for Dracula to neatly top off his glass, he wasn't sure, but as soon as Dracula let him go, Isaac collapsed and did not get up for a while.

From the floor he watched Dracula swirl the blood filled glass under his nose and take a lusty sniff before taking a delicate sip. Isaac groaned softly as he watched his master drink his blood with such enjoyment. He would have rather Dracula take it from his neck, so that he could feel his master's mouth and hands and body pressed against him, and so he could melt in Dracula's arms, but he took a masochistic pleasure from this as well. And the way Dracula looked down on him, a mischievous smirk on his bloodied lips, only made the feeling more intense.

When he glanced at Trevor, he saw the man's face very pale, as if sickened from the display. Indeed, he held his hand to his belly and lowered his head, and it seemed even the smell of the blood was disgusting him. Isaac was immensely gratified when he saw Dracula gently guide Trevor's head closer to him and force the glass to his lips. Trevor tensed, but could not move away. He seemed to have turned to stone as the glass was forced on his mouth, and he opened his mouth only with the utmost reluctance. Isaac let out a weak, breathy laugh at how Trevor whined in horror at being forced to drink the warm, thick blood. And Dracula chuckled when Trevor coughed and sputtered, a fine red mist in the air before his face. Now his mouth was messy with blood, and the taste of his enemy hot in his throat.

"Now, now, it's really not as bad as all that," Dracula chided, pulling Trevor up, straightening him on his knees so they met eye to eye. His towel had slipped off, but Trevor's hands trembled at his sides, neglecting his modesty. "It's hardly different than what you so enjoyed just a moment ago."

Holding Trevor with a hand to his nape, Dracula turned his head to drink the rest of the blood, and tossed the glass to Isaac, who just barely caught it before it could smash to the floor. He leaned to Trevor's ear, and Trevor cringed. Dracula smelled the Belmont's throat, pushing his nose through his freshly cleaned hair and seemed to be whispering something in his ear, but Isaac could not hear.

Whatever it was that he said, it appeared to have shocked Trevor into docility. This time a pair of slogras took Trevor back to his cell, while Isaac remained in Dracula's presence. He crept up to a kneeling position, then made the willing effort to crawl into Dracula's lap when beckoned. His master's body had a soft warmth to it now, just as his skin appeared slightly more normal, his hair darker. Every time he feasted on human blood, Dracula enjoyed a burst of vitality. It gave Isaac immense pride to provide such energy to his master from his own veins.

A few lingering thoughts of Hector entered his mind, but they were annoying to him now, and fueled his anger for the prisoner. Sitting in Dracula's lap like this, staring into his glowing eyes, feeling his clawed hands snake around his body and rip pieces of armor off, driving through his hair, seemed totally natural to Isaac, as if it were something he could expect and just had to work to deserve. He had done the right thing in bringing Trevor to his master, and he was being rewarded. How dare Hector try to undermine this one thing that made him happy?

Isaac tasted his own blood when Dracula kissed him, and a fresh supply was provided when he was bitten on the lip. Isaac tore his pants down, not needing to be told, and panted, lifting his head to give Dracula a better glimpse of his neck. He shuddered with a sharp gasp when Dracula removed the collar. It was so rare to feel the cool air on his neck, and with such a purpose, exposing his neck was far more erotic than being otherwise nude.

He already lost some blood, but he was more than willing to spill even more, however much his master wanted. He didn't care if he bled to death in Dracula's arms, and in fact half expected it. Just as he rubbed his erection against Dracula's torso, even though he would lose it once more blood began to flow.

Dracula kissed his neck and hugged him close. His hair felt soft and silken against Isaac's face, and his voice had a velvety, gravelly quality when it rumbled in his ear. Isaac wrapped his thighs around Dracula's body and pressed himself close, moaning loudly with need. Just as he knew Dracula was never fully satisfied with the small amount of blood he took from Isaac each feeding, Isaac was never satisfied with what little he got from Dracula. He craved to feel his master inside him, but dared not beg for it. He told himself that if he did survive this encounter, he would definitely find something else to fill himself with later.

"In all my years, I have never had such a loyal and valuable servant," Dracula hissed in his ear, grazing his teeth across the flesh of the lobe. Isaac could only shiver in answer, and cling to him harder. "I admit that I was not surprised at Hector's rebellion, but if had lost you..." Dracula pulled Isaac off to look at him.

"You will never lose me, Master," Isaac whispered without even really thinking about what he was saying. But he was never one to think much in Dracula's presence. He merely acted, and felt. Just as he didn't allow himself to analyze the tone of Dracula's voice to determine if he were lying or not. He could always tell that he lied to others, but for some reason, Isaac believed or made himself believe that Dracula never lied to him.

"You don't know how that pleases me," Dracula sighed sweetly, then plunged his fangs into Isaac's neck. Isaac yelped and felt his cock grow harder and press against Dracula's body, and then started to lose sensation of all extremities as the blood drained.

The pain was intense, but a strong euphoria overcame him, like a wave of pleasure. It reminded Isaac of a sexual climax, but it was far more peaceful, and lingered after Dracula removed his teeth. He slumped in his master's arms and was allowed to remain there for what seemed like an eternity, while Dracula stroked his hair and held him in strong, protective arms.

As Isaac's strength returned, he drew his head up to look at Dracula, and, drunk with sleepy pleasure, pressed his open mouth on Dracula's. Half a second later, he froze, realizing his grave mistake, but Dracula kissed him back, as if he didn't care. Isaac imagined that Dracula was also high on the wonderful closeness he must have been feeling. Their kiss was slow and tender, with Dracula allowing Isaac to be more forceful than he'd normally dare.

He still felt weak, but at least his organic, mortal body could replenish his lost blood, and he was certainly used to making his body work after an injury. Isaac pulled back, pulling his tongue from Dracula's mouth and gave him a bold grin, then slowly lowered himself down his master's body. His heart pounded and he expected to be stopped any moment, but Dracula allowed him to undo the buttons of his pants and pull the fabric apart.

His master's cock was cold, though not quite so cold as the rest of the body. He had to relax his mouth, but he took it all in. Dracula's breathing grew in intensity, but otherwise he didn't seem to react to this for a while. It didn't matter to Isaac; he had longed for this for a long time. Dracula had penetrated him a few times in the past, but had never allowed him to do this.

After a few minutes, though, Dracula seemed to awaken. He spread his legs, giving Isaac more room, and pushed his head closer, forcing him to hold it for longer. Then roughly he gripped Isaac by the hair and pulled him back and forth, effectively doing the job for him. Isaac couldn't even come close to swallowing it all when his master came, but he tried. It was slightly warmer, and had a thick, bloody taste, but it was just as white as his hair. The taste was so strong, it made him slightly sick, but still he did his best to lap up the mess before Dracula pulled him off gently.

Dracula at first did not meet Isaac's eyes, and looked slightly perturbed for a moment, as he tried to wipe up what he could with the hem of his cape. Though Isaac was used to his master being far more composed, he took this as a compliment. He told himself that it was doubtful that Hector could fluster their master like this.

But instead of make him appear weak, this short lived display made Dracula appear even stronger, because it didn't last. He was obviously quite affected, but was able to recover gracefully and go right back to being the way Isaac was used to. Perhaps, Isaac thought, he was one of very few people to have ever seen him like this.

Dracula leaned over and cupped Isaac's chin, nudging it up. "Hector and Belmont must be encouraged to grow close, and to believe themselves united against us. Actually, against you. Until I instruct you to cease, Isaac, you will make their strongest and most vehement thought to be of how dearly they hate and fear you."

Isaac felt slightly confused, but he did not dislike this instruction. Still tasting his master in his mouth, and delighting in the feel of his cold fingers against his chin, Isaac nodded, and then took his leave, stumbling at first from weakness.

As he headed for the prisoners' chambers, getting further away from Dracula, Isaac realized he did not feel quite as happy as he knew he should be. Being ordered to torture prisoners, what could be better than that? Deciding the problem must be fatigue, Isaac took the liberty of taking a nap before carrying out his master's orders.

&&&&&&&%%%%%%%%%%

The slogra had shackled Trevor's wrists together above his head, but did not bind him in any other way, nor did it give him anything to cover his nakedness. The creature lunged at Hector just to scare him and then left the two alone.

This time Hector's neck was free as well, but the cuffs on his wrists, bound in front of his body, were attached to the wall via a fairly long chain, allowing him the freedom to crawl to Trevor, if he wished. It would not give him enough room to get to the door, however.

He was extremely relieved to see Trevor dragged back in, but very distressed at the state of him. The man dropped off to sleep, but only for a few minutes. He tugged at his shackles half-heartedly, and drew his knees up. Hector had been watching him, nervous about speaking to him. He looked miserable and didn't even acknowledge that Hector was there at all. And after a little while, he hung limply from his shackles and burst into tears.

Hector stared in shock. Of course he could understand how Trevor must be feeling, but he didn't think he'd see tears from this man, who acted like his only emotions were anger and snootiness. Soon Hector felt pained just hearing it, so he said carefully, "Trevor?"

Trevor jumped as if he didn't realize Hector had been there the whole time. Unable to wipe his eyes, he just sniffed and turned his face away. He also closed his legs, but was unable to look any less naked to his companion. "Forgive me if I woke you up," he said in the most pitiful, miserable voice, breaking with the threat of fresh tears.

Hector could only imagine the terrible time that Trevor had been through to reduce him to this. He wasn't sure how to ask, however, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to know. It would remind him too much of his own nightmares.

So instead, he tried to comfort Trevor. He crawled closer to him and took a seat. Trevor did not draw away from him, but neither did he seem to really appreciate his proximity. After being around a man who thought nothing of hurting him day in and day out for so long, Hector was starved for any kind of human company and affection. His world was rather limited and lonely, he realized, as he gazed at the kind of man he never would have known during his days as Dracula's general.

"You didn't wake me," he said softly. After considering it for a moment, he reached out to stroke a strand of Trevor's hair off his face, and watched for the reaction. When Trevor tensed, Hector drew back and apologized, although he did not mean it.

Trevor seemed to grow smaller as he pulled his knees even closer to his body and lowered his head. His chest was heaving from the effort to breathe in such a restrictive bind, and Hector inspected his shackles. Miraculously, he saw that while his hands were locked together in the shackles, the chain was merely hooked onto a nail by another locking device in the wall. The slogra could have locked the chain into place, but did not. However, it would be difficult for Trevor to yank his hands free from the wall by himself, so Hector unhooked the chain himself. Now Trevor could have his hands down in his lap, although they were still bound close together.

He relaxed visibly, taking the time to get some good, full breaths, and looked at Hector. He did not say anything, but gratitude was in his blood shot eyes, and that was more than enough for Hector. He fixed Hector with a hard gaze and said, "We must get out of here, and soon."

Hector's soft expression deteriorated into a mournful look. "How?" he asked.

"We will find a way," Trevor stated, appearing to derive energy from this conviction, and Hector dearly wished he could be so confident. Even so, Trevor's eyes reddened, and he had to wipe them. "If we die trying, we will find a way, and soon." He flashed a fierce look to Hector. It was the same look Trevor had given him when they first met, when he was trying to kill him. "And we must do it soon."

Hector broke the gaze, discomforted by that look and the direction of this conversation. Of course he wanted to leave, and if it seemed possible, he would fight bitterly for the chance. But after being a beaten down prisoner for so long, defeated so easily by the very man he felt so confused about, Hector felt too defeated for anything right now. He wondered if he had any fight in him left, and what it would be that would draw it out. He knew that his own self preservation was not motivation enough.

In a hollow voice, Hector answered, "We need to rebuild our strength..."

"No!" Trevor snapped. "We don't have time."

Hector turned to look at him, feeling a chill run through him. Just what happened out there? "What do you mean? They'll be playing with us for a while yet."

Trevor gave him a hard look, then turned away. "If we both attack Isaac at once, when he comes in here for us, we may have a chance."

"What is it, Trevor?" Hector prodded, leaning closer. "We risk failure if we don't wait to grow stronger. What is so important that we can't wait?"

Trevor glared at the floor. "We need to get out of here, Hector. Now."

"Trevor?" Hector said softly, studying his eyes. This was truly an honest man, because it was obvious to Hector that lying did not come easily to him. It was taking great effort to hold whatever it was back. "What did they do to you?"

"I don't wish to talk about it," Trevor said tightly, still not looking at him.

Hector waited a moment, in case Trevor was going to talk. After some heavy silence, Hector said, "Trust me, I understand. After we met, I encountered Isaac in Cordova, or rather, what remains of Cordova, and I fought him." He paused, and Trevor seemed to be interested, even if he still wouldn't look at him. "It was a brutal battle. I fought with everything I had, but it wasn't enough. He should have killed me, but instead..." Hector paused again, this time for longer. And this time Trevor met his eyes.

"You don't have talk about it," Trevor said, in a rather cold way. But Hector did want to talk about it, as much as the memories haunted him, he did wish for another human being to understand. He couldn't stand that only he and his tormentor knew about what happened.

"Dracula has something planned," Trevor said at last. "By the time we act, it may be too late."

"But if we act too soon, we'll be overtaken and probably separated. In any case, steps will be taken to make sure we don't try to fight back again."

Trevor glared at Hector. "You seem to understand Dracula's ways very well."

Hector felt his face grow hot, instantly feeling defensive. "I grew up under his protection and I served him," he said firmly, with a trace of anger. "But as I have said countless times, no longer! You may condemn me any time you are reminded of my past, but I will take advantage of my experience."

Seemingly unimpressed by the outburst, Trevor merely nodded and turned away. "Who or what else must we worry about fighting if we can overcome Isaac?" he asked without emotion.

"Assuming this does not attract Dracula's attentions? Just an army of hellions, but they are mindless. Strong, vicious, but if we could break free from here, I would not worry too much, but the further we could get from here the better."

Trevor glanced at him. "No one else?"

Hector considered, then said, "Not that I know of." He did not wish to alarm Trevor if he did not already know, but there was Death to consider as well. Hector had very little experience with that being who called himself such a name, and had not heard of him since he left Dracula's side. Nor was he sure what to think about Zead. With any luck he was far from here, so there was no use upsetting Trevor with the knowledge of him.

But if Hector were truly honest with himself, he did not for a second believe that he and Trevor could escape from here, at least not any time soon. But because that vain hope seemed to be all that kept Trevor from slipping into despair, Hector did not discourage it. He listened to Trevor's ideas, pretended to think of how they could break their chains, and all the while wished the man would shut up, fall asleep, and leave Hector alone.


End file.
